


step into my candy store

by alexfromnowhere



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It's going to end up with all four of them in a tangled mess of a relationship, Slow Burn, Weight Gain, when that's going to happen, who can say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexfromnowhere/pseuds/alexfromnowhere
Summary: Veronica says she'll do anything to keep Martha safe. Heather Chandler takes her up on that and then some.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Heather Duke/Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 34
Kudos: 125





	1. Big Fun (?)

**Author's Note:**

> this is an attempt to process my sudden (and late) descent into heathers the musical over the holidays, and along with the canonical issues you see here - bulimia, self-harm, high school being a nightmarish hellscape from which we try to escape - will also include a poly relationship and weight gain kink. because really, why make a straight-up kinkfic when you can get your feels on. as more things come up, tags will get added (or some other means to do the same) and I'll put up content and trigger warnings when applicable - especially since, yeah, it's heathers.
> 
> standard disclaimers: don't like don't read, comments give life and sustenance, I own nothing here, and hope you enjoy!

**_September 25th, 1989_ **

**_Dear Diary,_ **

**_What the fuck._ **

“You want me to _what_?” Veronica spluttered out, disbelieving what she’d heard. Because- because that was nuts, she couldn’t mean that… could she?

Blue eyes glittered back at her and red lips tilted in a smirk that liked to show itself right before its own gutted the person who was the target. “What’s wrong, Ronnie? You said you’d do _anything_ to keep Dumptruck-”

“Dunnstock,” Veronica hissed back. She wasn’t sure whether to feel heartened or scared when Heather Chandler just chuckled at her correction, but the former didn’t seem likely. 

“Fine, fine, your not-so-little friend,” Heather continued, leaning back against the bathroom counter, a gesture meant to suggest her relaxing. Veronica, three weeks into her rise into the most popular clique in Westerburg High, knew it really meant that the mythic bitch herself was readying herself to strike. 

Veronica glanced from the Heather in red to the rest of the trio who ruled the school, a bit concerned by their reactions: Heather McNamara, normally as cheery as her usual yellow fare, looking skittish and Heather Duke, swathed in green and with a wit as sharp as her nails, staring at Veronica with an unreadable expression. While mostly she didn’t see the two as ‘lackeys’ to Heather Chandler, that vibe was hard to deny at the moment.

“You wanted a bargain?” The newest addition to the Heathers was drawn back to their auburn-haired leader, who seemed happy to let Veronica dangle on the line for only so long. “Well, that’s the price of keeping Martha _Dunnstock_ safe for the rest of senior year.”

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

**_Okay. Let’s go back to where so many bad ideas come to life: one of Ram’s parties._ **

Veronica hadn’t entirely known what to expect to do for her weekends now that she’d joined the Heathers. Prior to being elevated from her fairly obscure high school existence, a good night would be movie nights with Martha… and that was about it. Which! Were still really nice! But the rumors she’d heard about what awaited in the holy circles of popularity - parties of all kinds, your pick of any guy (and even some girls with the right amount of alcohol), skipping class, every kind of drink and drug and _anything_ that you could find in Sherwood, Ohio and the surrounding counties…

Well, you’d have to be dead to not be at least a little curious. And while she couldn’t be sure of what things would look like half an hour from now, right now Veronica Sawyer was fucking _alive_ and loving every second of it. Jungle juice, so potent that she swore she saw a cigarette make a cup of it burst into flame? Check! Shots, including several before McNamara had corrected her ordering of things and several after? Mmmm. Weed, once she’d gotten past a couple of very unchill coughs? Oh yes. 

“Is it like this every Saturday?” she blurted out to McNamara, ignoring Chandler rolling her eyes with derision behind the bubbly blonde and instead focusing on McNamara’s pleased grin. 

“Pretty much!” Heather shouted back over the music, something that - between the volume and her increasingly blissed out state - Veronica couldn’t recognize more than much of a hum with occasional beats.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Veronica breathed in awe. McNamara just laughed and pulled her towards a cluster partiers dancing along to the music, let her hips sway into the beat easily. Veronica blinked with admiration before it clicked; the head cheerleader probably should be able to get into a dance pretty quick, no matter how many jello shots she’d seen Heather down. By the time she’d caught her balance, she was dancing in front of McNamara with a plastic cup in one hand and grinning like an idiot. “This is _awesome!_ ” 

“Yep!” Heather replied, her lips popping on the last letter, her simper only contributing to the goosebumps rippling up Veronica’s slender arm. She leaned in on her tiptoes to so the taller brunette could feel her breath against her own cheek. “And this is one of the more boring parties,” a comment that only prompted Veronica to lean back and laugh with joyful disbelief. 

Dancing along to another few songs (how many, she wasn’t exactly keeping track) and drinking about half of whatever was in her cup (definitely was, it was too red and too potent for her not to), Veronica wasn’t entirely sure what was going on around her. Which isn’t to say that things were blurry or unmemorable - Heather’s luminescent smile taking up most of her vision was as lovely as it was infectious - just that the need to focus on much at all was… well, _gone_. It was hard to say that being surrounded by party-goers in a dark, loud, smokey room was relaxing, but actually, yeah, feeling like you weren’t one wrong word from being deleted was freeing! In that moment, being popular felt not just good, but like something everyone should get a taste of, especially given how she was still used to riding the knife’s edge every Monday. 

Somewhere behind her, Veronica heard a boisterous voice holler out over and a gleeful whoop answer back. She looked around briefly with furrowed brows before her eyes fell back on McNamara, leaning in so that she could hopefully hear. “What was that?” Another cheer went up before Heather answered, only for her to offer an exaggerated shrug in return. 

“Just meatheads being meatheads.” Veronica jumped a little, the voice at her side strained over the continued call and response. She didn’t recognize it until she saw Heather Duke, looking sour despite her flowy mint-green top. Before she could ask what Heather meant, Duke sneered at Ram - returning to the press of bodies after whatever had gone down - over her shoulder when the cheers died down. “Real mature, boys!” 

“That’s no way to show school spirit!” Ram said as he slipped in behind Duke, arm going around her waist. Veronica’s nose scrunched at the smell of beer on his breath, which was a little impressive - and deeply concerning - seeing as she was still facing McNamara and not the other two at the moment. “Maybe I can show you how to be _really_ excited upstairs…”

What very little amusement she’d had with the situation a moment before evaporated as she caught a glimpse of the fear on Duke’s face sharpening. “Get off of me, jackass!” She spat, wriggling against his arm while he snickered back.

“Aww, c’mon babe, I know you wanna,” Ram offered in what _he_ probably thought was a rough, husky voice. To Veronica it sounded more like gravel tossed in a coffee grinder, if the grinder could also somehow be nauseated - a feeling that she, and Duke judging by her face, was quickly coming to empathize with the more Ram spoke. “We can start off with a blowie, just how you like-”

“Hey, Ram!” Veronica piped up, hopping over in front of the unharmonious pairing. She made a point of taking a sip - a small one though - from her cup and letting more ease into her voice than she felt at the moment. “I think I just saw some freshmen hopping the fence! You better take care of them before Heather sees!”

“Freshmen!” Ram snarled, surprising Veronica with how fast he retracted his arm and apparently how quickly his interest with Heather Duke was forgotten. “I _hate_ freshmen!” He left so fast that Duke stumbled for a moment, no longer pinned against his chest, before Veronica and McNamara moved in on either side of her.

“You okay?” Veronica asked, leaning in so they couldn’t be overheard… as if anyone could overhear with the music and shouting and gobsmacking amount of alcohol, she thought a moment later. Of course, Heather Duke didn’t seem to care about being overheard or not, with her response almost as venomous as her protest to Ram. 

“I didn’t need your- ehhck!” Or at least, it _would_ have been, if she hadn’t been knocked forward from behind, a trio of football players whooping about another of their own chugging a beer and not caring who they bumped into along the way. Veronica moved to help break Duke’s fall as soon as she heard the yelp of pain and surprise, her hands coming to brace the shorter girl’s arms. When she could see Heather’s expression, she still held a sour, almost chagrined look on her face, but her green eyes were a bit softer. 

Veronica gave her a crooked smile in return, already knowing that acknowledgment of her intervention wasn’t likely to follow but pleased just the same that she’d been able to help out the other girl. “We watch each other's backs, you know?” She offered with a slight shrug and a little squeeze of Heather’s arm, catching McNamara’s enthusiastic nod out of the corner of her eye.

Heather Duke glanced between the two and let out a little huff, crossing her arms over her chest even as McNamara sidled up next to her. “Can one of you get me something to drink? Not booze,” she added, clearly wanting to be done with the drunken bullshit around her. 

Veronica drained her own cup, relishing the burning sensation that trailed down her throat, and shot a thumbs up at both Heathers as she started for the drink table. She overheard McNamara saying, “You know, she’s pretty nice!” behind her, probably not aware of just how loud she was talking in the mob of people, but it was Duke’s grumbled agreement that had laughter bubbling up and out of Veronica’s lips. 

_Heather Duke maybe had a soul after all!_ She thought, still snickering as she weaved her way through the crowd, more giggles coming up as the rest of the house swayed around her even more than expected. _Mmmkay, still feeling it. Maybe stick to water for a little,_ she mused, a little pleased her buzz was sticking around despite the adrenaline spike from a few minutes prior and a little disappointed that it hadn’t cleared up. After Ram’s attempted strongarming of Heather Duke, she wanted to be a bit more on guard - especially when he didn’t find those freshmen she’d sent him hunting. 

Arriving at her destination without too much trouble, Veronica quickly snagged a water bottle for Heather Duke and then another for herself after a brief moment of consideration. _Mission accomplished_ , she thought to herself, turning back towards the dance floor with a pleased swing of her hips and not particularly worried about anyone noticing her not-quite-private victory dance. Was some of her pride related to the amount of alcohol and weed in her blood? Oh, _definitely_. 

But here she was - Veronica Sawyer, recently nerd, nobody, and target for anyone with a chip on their shoulder at the pit of hellfire that was Westerburg High School, absolutely crushing her first party as one of the Heathers. She even plucked a jello shot from a football player holding a few, blowing a kiss back and sauntering away when he just managed a goofy grin. Her! Making someone like _that_ go weak in the knees! Fuck, this was a better high than that joint she’d hit earlier.

By the time she’d gotten back to where Duke and McNamara were - the former only slightly swaying with her arms still crossed over her chest while the latter was bopping along to Cyndi Lauper - she’d knocked back the electric blue shot she’d secured and was humming along (poorly) herself. “Water for you,” Veronica chirped, Duke giving her a questioning eyebrow that lacked her usual bite as she took the bottle. “And water for me,” she continued, going to take a drink from her own - and freezing, heart skipping a beat when her eyes fell on her best friend, Martha Dunnstock.

Any hopes that her reaction had gone unnoticed were dashed when Heather Chandler slipped in behind her, making Veronica jump when Heather draped her arm around her shoulders. “I can’t believe she _actually_ showed. You must have written quite the note, ‘Ronica. Either that or she’s got more guts than I thought,” Chandler hummed smoothly, with the knife’s edge that Veronica had feared being just under their velvet surface. 

“She’s got _plenty_ of that already-” Heather Duke began with a snicker, only be cut off by the dual glares of Heather Chandler and Veronica.

“Shut up, Heather.”

“Sorry, Heather,” she grumbled, more chastened than Veronica would have expected. 

“We can’t let that continue, or who knows who will be next to think they can show their face at a party,” Chandler continued, Duke regaining her spark while McNamara smirked. Veronica, meanwhile, felt all the pleasant warmth and comfort she’d built over the night leak out of her, only to be replaced with a cold weight settling in her stomach. How could she forget about the note? She’d been partying on that ticket all night and now the clock was about to strike midnight, with her up to her eyeballs in glass slippers. She frowned at that thought, metaphors about as mixed as her alcohol intake, but came back to earth when she heard Heather continue: “She’s got guts, so let’s rip ‘em out.”

“No.”

Three sets of eyes - blue, green, and brown - snapped to her with varying states of rage, shocked amusement, and bewilderment contained within. Veronica gulped in her next breath and shook her head, even as she felt Heather’s acrylic nails scratch against her bare shoulder. Chandler’s blazing blue eyes stared at her for a moment before she resumed speaking. “Heather, do you think we can get Ram and Kurt to let us borrow their piggy pinata?”

“Of course, Heather,” Duke answered back in what Veronica recognized was her best imitation of Chandler’s oily delivery, the one that offered honey and pulled you down into the tar to suffocate. She glanced between the two, knowing that if McNamara signed on, it would be a done deal - and that Chandler had turned her gaze to the head cheerleader…

“Heather, do you still have that ratty scarf in your car?” Veronica’s eyes locked onto the blonde girl, silently pleading even as she watched her cave.

“I do, Heather,” McNamara replied, her cheerful demeanor a bit blunted by the dark shift in the conversation - and, as Veronica feared, she wanted to get back to more sunny outlooks by doing what Chandler wanted. “Do you want me to go get it?”

“Yes.” Veronica gulped down more air, still with Chandler’s arm curled around her shoulders. What had felt familiar, even a little comfortable, moments prior now had all the warmth of a boa constrictor and that pit in her stomach felt like it now was reaching up to squeeze her ribs. “She wants a kiss? Then we’ll make sure she gets one. Heather, Heather, go-”

“I said no,” Veronica choked out, again feeling three stares on her and fighting against the itching sensation that seemed to come with their eyes on her skin. “We- we can’t just-”

“I’m sorry, did you say we _can’t_ ?” Heather interrupted, nails digging into her shoulder as she turned to look at Veronica, ice running up from her middle at the fierce look in Chandler’s eyes. “Maybe you’ve forgotten just who gave you a shot in the first place, but we _can_ ,” she murmured, low and silky again - which only served to make Veronica’s heart thump faster in her chest - as her nails dragged along bare skin again. “And we _will_ . We made you a somebody, Veronica Sawyer, and if you don’t want to be an _ex_ -somebody come Monday morning, there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

Veronica shook her head, breathing a bit faster and ignoring the tightness in her chest. “I don’t care,” she sputtered, feeling her heat start to blossom in her cheeks and stretch down her face, starting to gather steam even as the panic gripped her more tightly. “You can’t just do that to someone, she hasn’t done anything - to anyone!” 

Duke and McNamara exchanged glances, the latter looking more sober with each second and the former staying uncharacteristically quiet. Heather Chandler, meanwhile, kept her arm around Veronica’s shoulders and barely changed her tone - which did little to drain any of the venom out of her words. “We can, the same way we brought you into our little circle. The same way we can _end_ your chance of getting through senior year with any shred of dignity.” 

Smooth, just like her promises of being popular, of going to parties and getting whatever you wanted, like her threats that Martha would leave her in the dust if her and Veronica’s places had been switched. That’s why it felt so real at the time, because you didn’t notice the tendrils wrapping around your legs until you were already up to your neck in water. And by that point, you either did what the monster wanted, or you drowned. Veronica _knew_ why she’d written the note, why she’d agreed - that was why it was all the worse when, now, she felt sick at the idea of ever thinking that Martha Dunnstock of all people would have left her behind. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump in her throat, with that and her silence apparently signaling to Heather that she’d won.

“Heather, go find Kurt and that pig,” Chandler said to Duke, the air of a command in her words being what snapped Veronica from her state. “Heather, the scarf. Ten minutes-”

“No!” Veronica pleaded, grabbing for Duke’s wrist with her hand and her brown eyes locking onto Duke’s green ones. She didn’t quite reach what with Heather holding onto her still, but just the act seemed to leave Duke glued in her spot and McNamara only a step ahead of her. “Please, you can’t do this,” she repeated, knowing Chandler was a lost cause and trying to plead with the others. “We don’t have to be like this.”

Heather Chandler’s face replaced her field of vision and the cold churning in her gut returned in full force. “Listen to me,” the auburn-haired girl hissed, moving in front of her now so it looked like the two might have been dancing; face in close, hand at Veronica’s neck - with the edge of her nails pressing in uncomfortably - and other hand at Veronica’s waist.

“We are going to do whatever we want to her and you- _you_ are going to go along with it,” Chandler continued, her nails sliding up Veronica’s neck and across her jawline. The action dragged out an unwelcome shiver from the brunette as her breathing grew more ragged in contrast to Chandler’s steady presence. “Because there is nothing you can do. Accept that _now_ and it’ll be better for everyone.”

Veronica tried to get some kind of response past her lips, but the rotten feeling in her core made her stifle a groan - all in time for her to see Heather’s expression finally change from the cold fury that made so many bend to her will, a smirk slowly curling her lips.

“Well everyone except for her… but you don’t care about her,” she hummed, Veronica trying to step back but being held in place, the words slicing through her worse than any knife. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have written that little note, would you?”

Looking at it from a rational perspective, it would be pretty clear what was the cause of Veronica Sawyer’s downfall, especially to Veronica herself. She’d had to read all the Greek myths in sophomore year too after all, so Icarus wasn’t really a stretch for her. Pile on who knows how many shots and drinks and hits she’d had and it didn’t take all that much adrenaline for it all to turn on her, and fast. Rationality, however, didn’t explain why it was _that_ cut that undid her; instead, it came down to one belief that she’d tried to hold onto, through the makeovers and mall trips and classes she’d ditched. 

She believed she was a good person. And a good person didn’t gut their friends. 

When Veronica came out of a haze that she didn’t remember going into, she saw three things.

The first was Heather Chandler, staring with wide eyes and her face so red that Veronica could see the other girl had freckles under her eyes.

The second was Duke, McNamara, and anyone else who had been within about ten feet of the pair was watching them, whether with jaws agape like McNamara or a look of shock and amusement like Duke was sporting or some other mix.

And the third, perhaps most notable, was that there was… _something_ on the floor, puddled around Heather’s feet. It was when she realized that her stomach was no longer roiling in pain that just what it was and where it had come from became clear.

_Well, I’m fucked._

“This is the thanks I get!?” Veronica swallowed at Heather’s roar, the rawness of her throat only making it clear that, no, she wasn’t having a nightmare, and yeah, she had just puked on Heather Chandler’s shoes. But instead of being cowed by Heather’s increasing rage, what felt like demands for obedience as much as anything else, Veronica felt her own anger rising up to meet the Queen Bee’s. 

Veronica glared back at Heather, fire lacing through her throat as she huffed back, her patience apparently following her place in the popular clique - which is to say, off a cliff - when she stormed off towards the door. She was _done_ with this stupid bullshit; no amount of popularity was worth this. 

She only realized how fast she had blazed her way out of the party when she felt a chill on her arms, the late September evening enveloping her but doing little to cool the anger bubbling inside her. It was only-

“You stupid fuck!”

-when that came from behind her did she come to a stop. Her breath was ragged, her pulse perhaps even more so as it thundered in her ears, and when she spun around to face the owner of those words, she felt the horizon of her vision tilt for a moment before snapping back to normal. That she didn’t grasp that she’d walked more than a few houses down the street before she’d stopped was another tally in the “Veronica’s Pretty Fucked” column, but really, what were a few more after what she’d pulled tonight. In hindsight, it was hard to see something _besides_ this catastrophic fuck-up happen, but for now-

“You goddamn bitch!” Well, that was gonna have to suffice. 

“You were _nothing_ before you met me,” Heather spat when she finally closed the distance, also breathing heavily. A small part of Veronica wondered if she’d ran to catch up with her but she dismissed whatever consequences that may have suggested. “I raise you up from nothing and get paid in puke!”   
  
“Well, lick it up, baby!” Veronica snarled back, taking a step closer. Apparently ditching her stomach contents had put some steel in her spine, though that was probably because she had switched from alcohol to adrenaline as the major additive to her blood stream. “Lick. It. Up.”

Heather’s eyes widened for a moment, her mouth twitching before her voice returned to a calmer tone. “You threw it all away and for what? Martha Dumptruck?”

“Her name is _Dunnstock_ ,” Veronica growled, more from her throat feeling shredded than malice at this point. Still, she wasn’t quite done striking back. “What would you know about standing up for a friend anyway?”

Heather actually seemed to recoil a bit at that, a flicker of - well something that Veronica couldn’t quite pick up in her current state - passing over her face before her mask resettled. “Like it’ll do her any good - you ‘saved her’ at one party,” Heather said, mockery dripping from those two words. “What do you think is going to happen on Monday? To you _and_ to her.”

The fire that had filled Veronica, much like the heat that had warmed her during the party, was extinguished before she really knew what to say. _That_ was the true fuck up here; she’d doomed herself and Martha - and judging by the look on Heather’s face, she knew that had gotten through to the brunette. “Transfer to Washington, transfer to Jefferson; when I tell everyone about tonight, no one’s gonna let you play their reindeer games.” Apparently satisfied, Heather turned on her heel to head back towards Ram’s house, leaving Veronica with a growing void in her chest.

**_So, I sold my friend out for a makeover, I went to my first party, I barfed on the Demon Queen, and I got my social death sentence. Typical Saturday night in the hell that is Westerburg. So what does one do when they have gutted themselves in front of half the school?_ **

**_Wander aimlessly in the dark in heels, of course._ **

Veronica groaned and pulled her jacket - far, far too thin for a windy night this close to October - tighter over her shoulders. She’d lost track of exactly how many streets and turns she’d made since Heather had abandoned her - or she’d abandoned Heather? really the order of things was a bit murky given the whole night’s happenings - but had a vague notion that she was heading towards her own house. Maybe. Who cares, she was going to be toast anyway. Thirty hours, then she’d be as good as strung up on the flagpole. 

The sheer insanity of it all gripped her in that moment, starting as nervous giggles that quickly built into almost delirious laughter. “Oh, you fucked _so_ bad,” Veronica gasped out after a snort that left her clutching the sides of her face. Her breaths became sharper as whatever high was left in her system - booze, weed, adrenaline, whatever - came crashing down. “You idiot, you fucking idiot!” She just about fell back onto a low-lying stone wall, just in front of the sidewalk she’d been pacing, fingers laced into her hair. She gripped her head, not sure if she was trying to keep from exploding or trying to crush it herself; instead, she settled for just pulling on her hair until tears began to well up in her eyes, rattling with quiet sobs as she just… sat there. 

She didn’t really think about how long she was sitting out in front of someone’s house, a pretty nice one in fact, in whatever neighborhood she’d wandered herself into. She knew it was long enough that when she uncurled her fingers from her hair, they hurt from being held so tightly. She wanted to scream, to claw her own skin and face off, to do _something_ to make herself hurt - a thought which made her wince when she realized how strong that had been. _Been a while since_ that _happened_ , she thought to herself, shaky hands going for her lighter and a cigarette from her jacket.

“Okay, Sawyer. Options,” she muttered, trying to light the cigarette she’d managed to pluck from her pocket. When she tried to light it, the same wind that chilled her through her jacket snuffed the small flame before she could manage, and then again on her second attempt. Only after shifting her back to the wind and holding both lighter and cigarette in tight near her chest was she able to get the damn thing lit, and by that time the drag she took from it was maybe a little desperate. 

“Transfer, yeah, option one,” Veronica puffed. She closed her eyes as she took another deep pull, waiting until her lungs started to burn before she let the smoke curl out of her nose. “Knowing my luck there’d be another set of Heathers there too.”

Another drag, another breath out, this one quick enough for her nose to burn instead. She grimaced at that, pinching the bridge of her nose to give herself another outlet to focus on. She took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, easing her fingers off her skin. _Go for the smoking; less noticeable,_ the thought bubbled up in her brain, unbidden and unwelcome as Veronica scowled at herself. She knew better than to leave marks that would be seen in the light of day, but she also had to get herself to morning first. 

“Option two.” A slower puff this time, blowing out smoke before she continued. “I’m not dead until Monday morning, so why not just cram as much life in before the Demon Queen makes me drink draino in front of the whole school.” Okay, now _that_ was a little much for even her self-deprecating ass. _I do love my drama though_ , she mused, taking another drag as she got in more familiar and safer mental territory. Flagellating, she could handle that. She wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good Catholic - the thought of church made her physically wince for a moment - but hey, what was high school without a cross to put yourself up on? She took another quick breath to smother the part of her brain that said she deserved it, even if she didn’t really disagree. 

Instead, Veronica let herself consider that second option. And for a moment… well, it sounded good. Really, _really_ good, actually. She was, at least for the next thirty hours, still part of the most popular, desirable group of girls in this suburban hellhole. And hey, she knew where that guy from 7-11 lived - he’d even beaten up Kurt and Ram on his own! That was a nice memory to revel in with a nice, slow exhale and a heat in her stomach that helped fight back against the wind nipping at her fingers. _Mmmm._

Unfortunately, that moment ended when she got around to the other part of this problem. “And that does nothing for Martha,” she sighed, a smokeless breath coming out of her nostrils as she let the cigarette burn on its own for a moment. “I get delightfully freaky and she gets plain screwed. Which is exactly what got me into this mess in the first place.” 

She pulled in a deep drag from her cigarette to steel herself, already wincing. “Which means, option three…” And what came to mind _there_ made her stomach turn again after a few hours of relative peace, not to mention thoroughly dousing the building warmth in her core. Because option three was prostrating herself before Heather Chandler before Monday morning, beg for forgiveness _and_ Martha’s safety, and accept whatever penance she felt fit her crimes. Just what would be appropriate after tonight was beyond Veronica’s grasp and that - the open question of just how far Heather would go in getting her pound of flesh - was truly frightening. She knew, up close in the last few weeks in particular, just how cruel Heather could be to someone who crossed her - and that was before taking into account that Heather seemed to take Veronica’s transgressions especially personal. 

Still… what choice did she actually have? Even if her first option spared her, somehow, she’d never live down fleeing to an entirely different school - if only because she’d never let herself forget it. Door number two sounded fucking great but, as with the first choice, it left Martha to face Heather’s wrath while she at least got herself a day of debauchery to soften the blow. Only that last choice - damn the consequences, plead for whatever she can get, and then take it before Heather changes her mind - offered her any kind of redemption, and she that’s what she wanted more than anything right now.

Veronica breathed out the last of her cigarette, worked down to a stub by her frantic behavior but having served its purpose in helping her focus. She briefly glanced down to the inside of her wrist, exposed from her jacket by ministrations, before frowning sourly. _No marks_ , she reminded herself, tossing the cigarette onto the sidewalk in front of her and grinding it against the concrete with her foot as she stood up. She squared her shoulders and looked to the nearest street sign. _Now then..._

“The Red Queen awaits,” she jammed her hands into her jacket and starting off down the street, having to keep from humming the funeral march to herself.


	2. Maybe Kentucky Wouldn't Be So Bad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica goes before the Red Queen, encounters a green-loving gremlin, and learns her punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "oh, I'm sure that chapter two will be about as long as the first, maybe just a little longer."
> 
> stares at 15 pages.
> 
> well, whoops! hope y'all enjoy.

**_I’m pretty sure I did five laps around Heather’s block before I actually climbed her fence. To be fair, the coffee from 7/11 didn’t help but I needed some kind of fortification before I went into the lair of the beast._ **

“Okay,” Veronica muttered. Here she was! Standing in Heather’s backyard, in front of the one window that had some light coming out of it - TV, she had to guess from the flickering. She knew that Heather’s parents were… usually not around, for reasons that Heather hadn’t really gotten into but she knew that probably made them shitty parents. That said, it’s not like she could really dig any deeper if she woke them up instead of Heather, right? That’s what she was telling herself at least; the alternative made her want to leap the fence and run until she hit Kentucky. 

_That’s a lie, nobody would voluntarily go to Kentucky,_ Veronica groused internally as she let out a settling breath and took aim at the window. She lined up her shoulders and feet like she remembered when they did some track and field in gym class, threw the first of a collection of pebbles she’d picked up… and felt her shoulders slump when her shot hit the siding a good five feet to the right of Heather’s window. And maybe a few feet too low. 

“This is why I play croquet,” she grumbled, lining up her next shot. At some point even misses would start to get Heather’s attention, right? Unless she was asleep. Then she would wake her up, in which case she might get to test if she really _could_ keep digging. Veronica shook her head sharply, scrunching her face when the motion caused a bit of a twinge in her temples before she muttered again. “Shut up, brain.”

Pebble number two actually dinged off the window frame, Veronica letting out a quiet ‘yes!’ - and followed up with a groan when the third clattered into the gutter. Another exhale to try and get her pulse down from its leisurely pace in what had to be in the 110s - _hooray coffee,_ she thought to herself - Veronica’s next shot hit the window square in one of the glass panes, and the fifth similarly hit the window with a muffle _plunk_ that made her let out another mutter of victory. She was about to launch her sixth - and final before she’d have to find more - pebble when a familiar face, framed by ginger locks and adorned with piercing blue eyes, came to the window. 

“ _What the fuck are you doing?_ ” Heather hissed at her, any sense of accomplishment vanishing from Veronica. If she dared to take her eyes off Heather, she was pretty sure that all the grass around her was probably dead too from the glare fixed on her by Heather Chandler. 

_Got what you wanted, dumbass!_ , part of her brain crowed at her, which she mentally shoved into a closet to deal with when she wasn’t courting death itself. Instead, she cleared her throat and held her hands out, palms up, feeling not unlike a cat trying to prove it wasn’t a threat. “I… uh, I came to apologize.”

A beat of silence, then another, until the breath Veronica didn’t realize she was holding started to burn a little in her lungs. Which itself was forcibly exhaled when Heather sighed and rolled her eyes, sounding like Veronica was asking her which lip gloss she should use. “Seriously? You couldn’t just accept your fate on Monday and live in a dumpster until June?”

“Honestly, I’m not opposed to that.” Much to her dismay - though not exactly in a bad sense - Heather snorted at that, with more than a touch of humor in her tone. “I mean it. I came here to ask forgiveness.” She swallowed to try and clear the lump in her throat, which didn’t stop the next word from trying to lodge itself in her vocal cords and refuse to leave. “Please.”

Again, Heather was silent, considering; and again, Veronica kind of felt like she was a few seconds from bursting into flame from Heather’s gaze or her own lack of breathing, whichever got to her first. But then, right when she felt sure death was going to come for her at 3:30 am on a cloudy Ohio night, Heather let out an unamused sigh as she pointed towards the driveway. “Front door.”

Veronica nodded eagerly, almost tripping over her own feet - and perhaps imagining Heather’s harsh laugh but probably not - as she scrambled for the fence she’d scaled in the first place to get into the backyard. _Okay,_ she thought to herself, landing on the opposite side of the fence after a few unsuccessful tries. _This was the_ easy _part_ , she added, trying to brush off her shirt and overall dress combo, certain there were twigs or dirt or half a raccoon colony somewhere on her person after wandering around the suburbs for the last several hours.

Each step towards the front door from her landing spot brought the prospect of just what she’d earned more clearly into focus. When she’d reached the door in a span of time that felt like an eternity and yet nowhere near long enough, Veronica had to clench her fist to keep it from shaking. Her mouth was dry and cotton-like, and only locking her knees kept them from trembling - or worse, turning for the road and running as fast as she could.

_Maybe Kentucky won’t be so bad?_

That last thought would never get more than a second’s consideration as the door opened. Briefly, Veronica pictured an old horror movie like the kind she had always watched with Betty because Martha was too scared: thunder rolling in the background, lightning illuminating the silhouette of whatever monster - be it inhuman or otherwise - was waiting, and the aching sound of a door that was begging whoever stood in front of it to run. And despite a wandering memory of her and Betty picking at the movie (“Thunder comes _after_ lightning,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes while Betty just laughed at whatever ridiculous thing the 1950s could offer up for a monster), Veronica decided that she’d take Dracula or Frankenstein’s monster, or anything else but Heather freaking Chandler right now.

“Hi, Veronica.”

And… maybe she was? Veronica squinted at the doorway, more than a little puzzled until she caught blonde hair in the poorly lit entry. “Heather?”

Heather McNamara, wearing a set of pastel yellow pajamas, halfway through a yawn, and with her hair pulled back into a very messy ponytail, stood in the entryway and nodded. The head cheerleader gestured for her to come in, leaving Veronica more than a little confused about the welcome she was receiving.

“What’s going on?” Veronica asked, about as quiet as she could manage while suffering from the mix of sleep deprivation, caffeine jitters, and what she was pretty sure was a hangover. Not that she’d had much experience, but she always thought those happened _after_ you slept and wasn’t thrilled to not even have that salve before more suffering. “Why are you at Heather’s house this late?”

“Mmmmmmm…” Heather hummed as she stretched her arms over her head, drawing a few pops from her back and showing a strip of her pale stomach. Veronica blinked away noticing the latter point, even as part of her brain thought _wait, were those abs?_ Veronica’s eyes zipped back up to Heather’s face but she froze when the other girl looked at her with eyebrows knit. Before panic could grip too strongly around Veronica’s heart, Heather beckoned Veronica with a finger and turned to lead her further into the ludicrously large house. Veronica had been here a few times, once earlier this week even, but each time it put her off just how much of it there was. 

Further wandering thoughts were interrupted by lights turning on just as she entered whatever room Heather had led her towards. Some frantic blinking later and Veronica realized it as the kitchen - and that the light only helped her realize how tired Heather looked; of course, that made her dread the thought of looking in a mirror at herself right now. _One disaster at a time_ , Veronica sighed internally, not sure what was going on.

“Water?” Heather asked her, bringing a frown to the brunette’s lips before she slowly nodded back. Heather grabbed a pair of glasses from one of the cabinets and filling them from the tap, her silence only fueling Veronica’s anxiety. And when Heather turned back to her with two full glasses of water, that particular dam finally burst.

“I’m dead, right?” Veronica blurted out, seeing Heather taken aback by her reaction - though at least starting to look more alive. As for her reward, she got to listen to Veronica babble more and with more panic filling her voice with each syllable. “I mean, I know I’m dead, but I just- I want to know, you know?” 

Heather just blinked owlishly at Veronica, holding out one of the glasses for her - which Veronica glanced at nervously, not unlike someone looking at a snake. The blonde sighed softly, a noise that - had it come from either Heather Duke or Chandler - she expected to be derisive and impatient. Instead, it was soft, almost warm; still chiding, but the same way you might tell a cat to stop playing with your sock. That smallest bit of compassion - not even verbal! - was almost enough to make Veronica come apart then and there, the frantic run of her night being the only thing keeping it strung together. Whenever she finally crashed, it was going to be _hard_ and probably with some ugly crying. But she couldn’t do that now - not when she still hadn’t gotten to Heather herself.

Veronica took the glass after a moment of silently - minus a sniffle - pulling herself together, drinking greedily as the night’s exertions caught up with her. She gulped down about half the glass before taking a breath, glancing up with crimson on her cheeks when Heather chuckled at her. “It’s been a long night,” she muttered and glanced away.

“Mmm,” Heather hummed softly. “For all of us, yeah,” she added, the use of _us_ there enough to give Veronica a little hope that, maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t completely dead. “Finish that, then I’ll get you a refill,” she suggested, Veronica not needing to be told twice to go back for the rest of the glass. Once she’d swallowed the last of it, Heather wordlessly took the glass from her and left Veronica alone with her thoughts. 

Which… at the moment, that was an unpleasant place to be. For all her attempts to barrel through the experience and stick to her guns - she would apologize but find a way to keep Martha safe, no matter what - this moment to take a breath had that certainty fading. She’d held herself together all night with the help of adrenaline and coffee and she needed to brace herself for going to see Heather in her room - but without inertia carrying her forward, now Veronica felt like she was coming apart. The weight of the last month seemed to settle on her shoulders at that moment, making her slump back against the countertop while she rubbed her face with one hand. And when those feelings leapt into her throat and made her eyes sting, she closed her eyes and held her hand over her mouth. The last thing she needed, the absolute last fucking thing in the entire world, was to cry in front of Heather - especially Chandler, but the thought of that happening in front of any of them was enough to make her stomach churn. 

How long she stayed there, slowly tugging all the threads back together, Veronica wasn’t really sure. She only realized how long it was when she felt a gentle bump against one of her arms, prompting her to jerk up. Heather McNamara was holding Veronica’s glass and standing in front of her through blurred vision. Veronica quickly swiped at her eyes, sniffing when she felt her face heat up. “Sorry,” she murmured, taking the glass before she could add anything else.

“It’s okay.” Veronica’s eyes flickered upwards in surprise at Heather’s reply. Where she had expected judgment, again she found more warmth in Heather’s brown eyes. “Like I said, it’s been a long night for all of us,” she continued, mirroring Veronica’s posture by leaning against the opposite counter. 

“And,” Heather added, pausing in consideration. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think you’re dead.” Veronica stared back at her, blinking like she’d sprouted a second head - with Heather providing a soft smirk in return. “Your notes are really handy.”

Veronica snorted, deflating again at the likely true sentiment behind that… compliment? _Close enough_ , she thought to herself, remembering the adage about beggars and choosers. “Good to be of use still,” the brunette deadpanned before taking another, less frantic, sip of water. A silence fell on them while Veronica drank slowly, as much to feel less like a prune as to help get her breathing to a more steady pacing. She was more than happy to smooth over the cracks that had appeared in her resolve and Heather seemed content to wait for Veronica to finish drinking, a light sigh following when she finally did so.

“Ready?” Heather asked simply, the question enough to make Veronica’s pulse jump again - but not quite to the pace it had raced out to earlier. Instead, she nodded after one last fleeting moment of solace, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Ready,” she answered. Heather nodded back, taking Veronica’s glass with an offered hand and setting it on the counter. Veronica knew the way to Heather’s room - having come over a couple times with the other two - but McNamara led her on. Not that she was exactly in a rush, which was something that Heather seemed to grasp as they went upstairs, the blonde ponytail bouncing along in front of her serving as Veronica’s focusing point. Of course, with her brain just repeating _I’m dead_ over and over again, it was hard for her to do any sort of focusing. Walls covered in hollow photographs with expensive frames blurred past in her vision while the faint sunniness of McNamara’s… everything - pajamas, hair, self - stayed in the center of her sight. And then abruptly stopped, making Veronica go up on her tiptoes to avoid running into Heather’s back, a yelp escaping her lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth.

That wasn’t enough to stop Heather from noticing, turning around and seeing Veronica’s petrified look - which, much to her own surprise, seemed to soften Heather’s tired expression. She gestured for Veronica to back up a little, which the brunette did without objection. “Veronica,” Heather started, glancing at the taller girl’s shoulders for a moment before her eyes came back. As much as Veronica _knew_ that Heather was shorter than her, and in fact was the shortest of the whole group, McNamara always had a bigger presence than her small frame suggested. She was probably the strongest of the four though, what with being very used to all kinds of acrobatics and dancing as head cheerleader - and dimly, Veronica’s unproven observation regarding her abs seemed to fit within this concept at least.

“Veronica?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes closing when her head fell, realizing she’d been drifting again. Once the drumbeat in her head made it hard for her to keep time with anything except her own anxiety. She took a deep, slow breath and pushed out against the blurring edges of her thoughts until she could open her eyes without being carried away. When she did, she saw Heather frowning at her with brown eyebrows knit in concern. “Just… need a moment,” Veronica added while forcing her breathing to be as steady as she could make it.

Heather nodded back, her frown settling more heavily on her features. Veronica let her eyes half-close again, only for them to jolt open when she felt hands on her upper arms. “Like I said,” Heather said, once again more compassionate than Veronica expected. “I don’t think you’re dead. You’ll have to kiss a lot of ass though.”

Veronica chuckled dryly at that and wished there was more than that thin facade of humor that she could draw upon. The contact with Heather helped ground her though, making it easy to get her thoughts more ordered than before. She nodded back at McNamara, with the other girl leading back towards the door she had originally stopped at. “That sounds lovely,” Veronica managed, some of her usual snark making a light appearance.

“Well,” Heather replied, giving Veronica a glance as she stopped at the door again. “It _is_ a very nice ass at least. Oh,” McNamara added, Veronica being not really able to process her comment before the blonde moved on in a softer voice. “You sticking up for Heather earlier… that was really nice of you.”

Veronica blinked at Heather in rapid succession, not entirely sure what to make of the timing of _that_ comment but she didn’t get much chance to reply; McNamara opened the door before she could form any kind of verbal response and the dread that had gripped Veronica since she’d seen Martha at the party came back in full force.

At first, all Veronica could focus on was _red_ : bright red carpet, scarlet accents around the molding at the top of the walls, pinks and crimsons in abundance on the desk and dresser and Heather’s couch… all leading to the white duvet and sheets of her bed. Which, Veronica realized, was where the other two of the trio were located. Heather Duke was stretched out on her stomach, her short stature easily contained on the sizable bed and appeared to be dozing on her folded arms, while Heather Chandler was sitting up with her back almost straight in the bed itself. 

A nudge from behind - McNamara, Veronica recalled - followed by the door closing was what pushed her to take a few steps into the room. Not that she had planned on taking all that many, but when Heather Chandler’s blue eyes found her own, she froze in place. McNamara walked past her, coming to settle on the bed between Duke and Chandler, leaving Veronica to stand alone. Briefly, she again considered just running, but at this point, she’d committed; _can’t go back now_ , she thought to herself, swallowing and wishing she’d had more water when she’d had the chance. Maybe it was her wanting to believe there was more of a chance than she actually had, but the lack of fury in Heather’s eyes gave her a little hope for what was to come.

Heather sighed; not that theatrical or exaggerated expression as she would let loose at school or parties, but one that sounded more tired than anything. Without her makeup, in a pink nightgown, and up to her waist in blankets, it was visually hard to connect Heather Chandler to the dominant image she projected so effectively. And yet, when she spoke, even with the clear exhaustion… 

“Veronica.”

She could hear it. The lack of energy honestly did little to dull the blade that always hid behind her tongue. The feeling that she was patronizing Veronica, both in the sense of talking down to her and also the reason why she was even in a position like this in the first place, similarly came through. And _that_ also gave Veronica hope in an odd way she couldn’t quite place her finger on, like maybe she wasn’t a completely lost cause.

When Heather continued to watch her but not speak, Veronica swallowed and decided to stick her head in the lion’s mouth. _A little initiative couldn’t hurt_ , she thought to herself as she drew in a breath. “I- I know that you probably don’t want to hear it. And that any apology I could give wouldn’t be enough, not on words alone. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try,” she said, eyes breaking briefly from Heather’s gaze when she paused to collect herself.

“That said,” Veronica began, seeing the surprise on McNamara’s face even while she focused on Heather Chandler, one ginger eyebrow perked. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to protect Martha.” She saw a spark in Heather’s eyes, one that reminded her of the party, start to form, but continued before she could let the cold fire catch again. 

“I think it’s im-important, it’s important,” she repeated, again closing her eyes for a second but plowing ahead with her voice a bit softer and more steady. “It’s important to stick up for your friends,” she swallowed, eyes flitting only briefly to where Heather Duke was sleeping. “All of them. I’ll own up to puking on you and I’ll get you new shoes, pantyhose, whatever.” 

Veronica let her eyes settle back on Heather Chandler’s, a bit unnerved how unwavering her stare was but setting her shoulders as best she could. “So, on top of whatever you want me to do to make up for the party,” Veronica said, having to swallow as she felt her throat tighten up. _Not like you hadn’t been practicing this in your head for the last few hours_ , the traitorous slice of her brain offered up, which she tried to just ignore even when she felt her eyes stinging.

“If Martha is off-limits for the rest of the year, I will do… well, I’ll do anything.” Her voice finally cracked, unable to hold steady any longer as she sniffed back some tears with frustration. She wiped at her eyes with a noise of discontent in her throat somewhere between a growl and a whine. “Please. She’s my best friend, and I’ll do anything, _anything_ to keep her safe. Anything else, I’m yours,” Veronica managed to finish, eyes still watery as she sniffled again and tried not to curse herself out for _crying_ in front of the Demon Queen. 

Heather Chandler had practically disemboweled random freshmen who had the audacity to cry in front of her and that was without any of the baggage that the last six hours had loaded into their relationship. But here she was, fighting with just about every scrap of dignity she had left to just sniffle and silently cry while she pleaded to protect her best friend. _Worth it, huh? You’d do anything to be like them?_ The unbidden voice in the back of her mind hissed, the one that always seemed to revel in any failing and was happy to sharpen those edges to slice at her long before she would pick up a blade to follow suit on her skin. _What has it gotten you?_

That question was still ringing in her ears when Heather crossed her arms over her chest and let out an exhale - not quite a sigh, but heavier than a normal breath. “Seeing as you _did_ help Duke… not that she shouldn’t have handled it on her own, but still,” Heather let her voice drop to a murmur for the last part, Veronica unsure who was the target of that comment but again not given much chance to process. “I… we,” she corrected herself with a glance to Duke and then to McNamara. “We will consider this.”

Veronica must have visibly brightened at that because Heather’s expression darkened almost as soon as the last letter left her lips. “That does _not_ mean you’re getting off easy, Veronica.” She gulped when she heard how Heather spat her name with venom on every syllable. “And come Monday morning, you’ll accept whatever we decide - no hesitation, no negotiation. Otherwise, you’re in the gutter and it’s open season on whoever we want.” Once again, the icy blaze of Heather’s eyes made goosebumps go up her arms and neck, blue orbs seeming to dare her to flinch. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Veronica responded, sounding a bit congested - and, judging by Heather’s rolled eyes, she heard it too. “Sorry,” she offered, wondering if she was imagining an easing of Heather’s glare or if that was just the tears that were still threatening to spill out.

“Go home,” Heather ordered, her fingers unfolding from her elbows just enough to shoo her. “Do not breathe a _word_ of this to anyone until after we meet Monday morning. And for fuck’s sake, you better not cry again in front of me for another month,” she added, the patronizing disdain replacing any hints of consideration. Heather turned to the other conscious member of the trio. “Can you show her out and lock the door?”

“Veronica?” McNamara asked from her side. Veronica blinked a few times, looking back to the bed where Heather Chandler was still with Duke and where she’d _sworn_ that McNamara had been a moment earlier. Veronica muttered a wordless apology, not meeting Chandler’s eyes again as she turned for the door with McNamara a step behind her. 

Trudging through the hallway, Veronica felt like she’d burned through all of the substitutes for energy she’d been running on for what was in reality probably six hours but felt like a small eternity. _Alcohol, weed, tobacco, coffee, adrenaline - I bet Heather could score some cocaine and I’ll knock out the full set_ , her thoughts wandered, not as sharp now but about as helpful. Apparently she was so lost in them that she barely registered being at the front door until Heather McNamara was looking at her. Dimly, she realized that Heather had asked her something.

“Huh?” _Eloquent as always,_ her thoughts hummed, that familiar edge back. 

“Are you going to be able to get home okay?” Heather asked, a frown deepening on her face. 

“Oh yeah, totally,” Veronica offered with a dismissive wave of her hand, then scrunched her nose. “Do I really sound like that?”

Heather sighed, taking Veronica’s arm and steering her away from the door. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” Veronica blurted out, vision clearing as focus returned; briefly, it turned out, as she had to blink away blurriness again when she was on the couch. Speaking of- “Wait, when did I get to the couch?”

“About two minutes ago,” Heather answered, returning to the room after a short - and unnoticed by Veronica - absence, a set of blankets in her arms. 

“Oh,” Veronica offered, waiting for the snarky voice in her head to provide its usual response but instead found its silence. _That_ was unnervingly effective in bringing some clarity, and a touch of panic, to the front of her mind. “Um, is it bad that I’m spacing out hard?”

McNamara tilted her head back and forth while she went about shaking out the blankets before giving Veronica a sympathetic shrug. “That happens to me sometimes when I mix things too fast.”

“Oh,” Veronica repeated with noticeable unease. She scooted over towards one end of the couch at Heather nodding for her to move. Hoping for some reassurance, she bounced a question towards the blonde with what she thought was a carefree tone… until she heard the words come out of her mouth. “I’m not going to, you know, die or something, right?”

Seeing all of the most embarrassing aspects of her question looking back at her in Heather’s face, Veronica quickly covered her face in her hands. “Oh god. I’m gonna die and I sound like a whiny five year old,” she groaned. 

Veronica felt a weight shift on the couch before Heather’s hand patted her knee and she let her fingers part enough so one eye could look at the blonde, now sitting on the couch next to her. “You’ll be fine,” Heather did finally assure her, her voice lacking the derision that Veronica thought she had seen on McNamara’s face a moment earlier.

“You might puke,” Heather offered, then paused with the corner of her mouth twitching. “Again, I mean.” That made Veronica turn her head enough to look at McNamara, only for her eyes to go wide and her jaw to drop when she realized what was happening.

“Oh my god, are you _giggling_ -” Heather shushed her with a finger to Veronica’s lips, the brunette’s eyes staring down her nose at it before coming back up to look at Heather - who was still, god fucking help her, _giggling_. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Heather replied, as quiet as she could while keeping her laughter (poorly) contained. She forced out her words at a whisper, obviously still worried about who loomed upstairs. “That was hilarious! If you had barfed on literally anyone but her, Heather would have died laughing! Hell, she probably found it kind of funny either way!” Another chuckle, this time with a giddy sigh after, came from McNamara’s throat all while Veronica was still trying to accept that this was actually happening. 

“You- you really think so?” Veronica asked, head spinning. Or maybe that was just the room. She reached out to grab onto the couch arm, slowly feeling herself steady. 

Heather frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe I got ahead of myself there,” which prompted a soft whine from Veronica. “But you’re probably not dead! And you probably won’t die tonight.”

“ _Probably?”_

“You had a _lot_ tonight, Veronica,” Heather retorted at the even louder whine, looking back at the brunette with a bit of concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird,” Veronica blurted out, shifting a little in her seat before choosing to look straight ahead after the room wobbled again in her vision. “My head’s a bit… spinny.” Heather nodded back, curling her legs up in front of her on the couch. By contrast to Heather’s more relaxed posture, more condensed though she was at the moment, Veronica felt like she was keeping herself tight and rigid, both feet flat on the floor, one hand on the couch arm and the other gripping the seat.

“Veronica?”

“Huh?” She responded, turning her head toward Heather a bit sharply and instantly regretting how her vision swam. “Oh, fuck,” she groaned.

“You zoned out again,” Heather said, rising from her seat on the couch with a short stretch. “I asked you about some more water.”

Veronica swallowed, only now noticing how her mouth was a little dry - sort of in the same way that the Sahara was a little hot. “Yes, please,” she rasped, eyes averted from Heather. That is, until she felt hands on either side of her face and she was directed to look up. 

For all her interaction with Heather McNamara, it dawned on Veronica that she hadn’t really paid much attention to her eyes. She knew that was partially because she’d had bigger worries in the form of Heather Chandler’s piercing blue gaze than McNamara’s warm brown eyes. 

And now, looking up at Heather, it was hard not to think of comfortable things and comforting notions within the chocolate pools staring back at her. Having spent the last… _who knows how long_ , she mused, realizing that a fair bit of time seemed to have passed since the two had sat on the couch, for her eyes or thoughts to be so clear… Well, that was something to ruminate on later, Veronica thought. When she wasn’t on the trailing edge of consciousness. 

“I’m going to get you some more water and another blanket,” Heather explained, with Veronica noticing for the first time since she’d arrived at Chandler’s house that her voice was a little hoarse as well. “Why don’t you lay down? That might help with the spinning,” she suggested, Veronica silently nodding back.

“Good,” Heather added, skimming Veronica’s cheekbone with her thumb before letting her go. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Veronica watched the shorter girl go, pulling her feet up so her knees rested against the arm of the couch along with her elbow. “Just lay down,” Veronica told herself quietly, grasping clumsily for one of the blankets. “That will help,” she repeated, clinging onto Heather’s advice as she settled back against the couch.

Sleep claimed her before she could utter another word.

**_I feel like I handled myself appropriately after that kind of night and getting only four hours of sleep._ **

**_Which is to say that I thought I was dying when I woke up._ **

“Gah! _Fuck!_ ” Veronica bolted up, or tried to - midway through the motion of standing, her foot caught on one of the plush cushions she’d been sleeping on. Despite - or perhaps because - being positively exhausted when last she remembered being conscious, she hadn’t ever gotten to the point of actually lying down on the couch. So, legs asleep from having them curled up and her neck and back protesting whatever excuse for posture she’d affected during the night, it probably shouldn’t have been too much of a shock when she fell forward.

At least, that’s what she was telling herself now that she was laying on her side, intimately familiar with the carpet, and with various parts of her throbbing, tingling in a truly worrying fashion, or feeling one false move away from cramping. Veronica tried to push herself up but winced when her arm reminded her that she’d been leaning on it all night, thank you very much, and would need some time before it would respond to her requests. Instead, she just flopped back onto the carpet and groaned. 

“I’m just gonna stay here until someone buries me,” Veronica muttered, eyes closing again for a moment to sink into the plush carpet.

“She’d charge you for that.”

Almost as soon as they’d closed, Veronica’s eyes popped open as she wiggled onto her stomach so she could look in the direction of Heather Duke’s voice. And there she was, sitting with her legs crossed on a high top stool in the kitchen, wearing a dark green sweatshirt with faded writing and the same pajama pants Veronica had seen her in as she slept last night. 

Veronica gulped, seeing the mug of what she prayed was coffee on the counter next to an open box of Cheerios. “How long have you been here?”

Heather shrugged back, popping a single Cheerio into her mouth and crunching on it loudly. “About ten minutes. Your ass is showing.”

Veronica half-scowled at Duke, mostly a product of being so tired. “I know, I already apologized to Heather last night-”

“No, I mean,” Heather interjected, gesturing back towards the couch as she chewed on another Cheerio. “Literally, your ass is showing.” Veronica looked back over her shoulder and felt her face heat up when, yes, she had practically half her ass uncovered from her dress having rode up while she slept.

“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered harshly to herself. She did her best to ignore the tingling protests in her arm as she tugged her dress back into place with one hand before switching to the other to finish the job. Veronica looked back up to find Duke with a well-maintained eyebrow arched as she took another sip from her mug, all while her own unease grew the longer that Duke watched her. “Yes?”

Duke shrugged and ate another solitary Cheerio. “Just seeing what kind of hangover person you are.”

Veronica’s eyebrows went up. “There are kinds of hangover people?”

“Mhmm,” Heather hummed back, closing up the cereal box - one that Veronica saw had “ _Duke_ ” written in tight script across the front - and slid it away before continuing. “Heather will stay in bed until she just wills it away, while Heather likes pancakes. She usually brings them up to Heather too.”

“You know that everyone else hates when you three do that, right?” Veronica retorted, finding the rhythm of bantering with Heather Duke an oddly familiar groove this morning. That feeling only grew when Heather’s lips curled in a sphinx-like grin. “Ah. So it’s intentional.”

Duke gave a soft huff and amused look to the still-prone brunette. “Please. You tell _me_ how much Heather likes spontaneity.”

 _Chandler, definitely,_ Veronica thought to herself as she tested whether her arms would cooperate. “Touché,” she muttered and pushed herself up when the pins and needles weren’t bad enough to make her wince. Ignoring protests from her legs about standing, she stretched and did in fact wince this time. 

“Not sleep well?” Heather prompted, watching her over the mug of coffee at her lips. 

“I passed out while sitting up.”

“Mmm, rookie mistake.” Heather took another sip. As Veronica made her way gingerly to the island countertop, she saw a well-worn book splayed open and pages down next to Duke. “Same with the dress.”

“Yes, I know, _my ass was showing_ ,” Veronica huffed back at her, mimicking Heather’s tone from a minute earlier but with a lack of bitterness - somewhat to her own surprise. She looked around the kitchen for signs of either a mug or coffee pot or preferably both. 

“Next to the stove, second shelf in the cabinet,” Heather said, flipping her book back over to thumb through a few pages. 

“Thanks,” Veronica murmured, trying to process how much all of this felt more comfortable than she had expected. Wasn’t she gripped with terror a few hours ago? How was she not freaking the fuck out while still in Heather Chandler’s house? Or having this entire conversation with Duke, probably the Heather she had the poorest relation with, and it feeling… fine? Even a little nice? What the fuck was happening? 

She shook those thoughts out of her head as she finally found her precious fortune. Veronica quickly pulled out the largest mug she could find in the cabinet Heather had pointed out and filled it to an unreasonably high level. Her eyelashes fluttered when she brought the mug up under her nose, a pleased shiver going up her spine at the smell and heat. For a moment, she just stood there and breathed in the rich smell - Heather never really settled for half-decent coffee - before finally taking a good gulp.

She opened her eyes to see Duke studying her, only for her green eyes to flick back to her book. Veronica just moved to occupy a stool across from Heather, a sigh escaping when her elbows came to rest on the countertop and a groan following when she took another sip. 

“Burning your tongue off isn’t really going to help you wake up. I would know.” Heather observed, a brief pause between sentences, all while keeping her eyes on her book.

Veronica stared back at Heather with her eyes round and wide until the other girl looked back up at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Veronica hurriedly offered, taking another sip of coffee. She was going to need caffeine if she was going to continue venturing through uncharted waters because why should this weekend be simple? “I, uh- I don’t think you’ve ever talked about… _that_ before with me.”

Heather shrugged back, flipping a page and continuing on. Moby Dick, Veronica noticed after some trouble with how the book was tilted and how much her eyes hurt from the lack of sleep. She waited for an additional comment, some continuation of the conversation, just _something_ but Duke’s attention remained on her book. So, Veronica just went back to her coffee. 

It was easy to lose track of time like this, too tired to really process the events of the last day but just awake enough to not doze off where she sat. Undoubtedly the latter was a result of the caffeine, Veronica considered; it was hardly the first time she’d woken up suddenly from a poor night of sleep, but usually she was drifting off again, even just a little, by this point. Her eyes glanced back longingly toward the couch and she let herself lean more heavily against the hand that was propping her chin up. 

How long she stayed like this - gazing into the middle distance, drinking from her mug, and relishing in how the rich, bitter liquid still burned at her tongue and cheeks - she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t really relevant either, not with the comfortable silence that had enveloped the kitchen. Or at least, it wasn’t until she noticed Heather Duke watching her instead of reading and realized she had no idea how long Heather had been watching her. 

“Do you have a crush on Heather’s couch?” Duke asked when Veronica’s brown eyes met her green ones. 

“Listen, it’s a really good cuddler.”

Heather gave a soft snort in response to that, eyes not quite rolling at the quip. “Good luck getting a blessing for that relationship.”

Veronica hummed noncommittally, then drained the rest of her mug in two big gulps. Unfortunately, she recognized, the heat that spread so pleasantly from her stomach was going to be a temporary comfort. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, slumping over so that now both hands held up her chin. Heather’s eyes looked over the top of her book to Veronica, as if waiting for her to explain. Veronica swallowed in hopes of getting a last taste of warm elixir but with nothing to speak off as a prize for her efforts. That failure instead just made her transition to leaning over onto the countertop, burying her head in her folded arms.

“Tired. Cold. Don’t wanna move.” Muffled though it was, she heard Duke snort again in response to her whining. 

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Heather mused, an audible flip of a page reaching Veronica’s ears. “I’m going to be driving you home anyway.”

“Mmm?” Though questioning was the noise that emanated from the unmoved monument to exhaustion that was Veronica Sawyer, she certainly wasn’t going to protest too much. Not having to make the half hour walk of shame back home on a chilly September morning sounded too good to be true. When no verbal response was made, Veronica lifted her head up just enough to look at Duke, still hidden behind her book. 

As if sensing her gaze, Heather finally did reply: “I imagine you don’t want to stay here any longer than you have to and it’s probably best for everyone if you’re not here when Heather wakes up.”

“Ah.” Veronica’s head went back down into her arms. “Self-preservation.”

“Mutually beneficial relationship,” Heather retorted. 

Veronica frowned in concentration as she tried to remember why that of all things sounded familiar. “Is that from biology?”

She heard the worn pages of Heather's book shift more than saw any sort of change, but when her eyes finally consented to focus she did see the wry smirk on Heather’s face. “Oh good, your brain isn’t completely fried by whatever made you decide to do all of _that_ last night.”

Veronica shifted so her chin was propped up on her forearm, a frown drawing her lips tight as she did so. “Last night was…”

“Suicidal?” Heather offered, Veronica’s frown deepening into a scowl back at her. 

“I was going to say _a lot_ ,” Veronica grumbled back at Heather, her eyes falling back to the island. Her focus came unglued enough so that the warm wood colors of the island started to blur with the dark green of Heather’s sweatshirt. Only when they went dark enough for her to realize she’d closed her eyes did Veronica force herself to blink a few times to sharpen those distinctions, and found Heather arching an eyebrow at her.

“Clearly. You look like hell.”

“I paid a visit last night, yeah,” Veronica replied, still grumbling but flatter than before. 

“Okay, this is too sad even for me to enjoy.” Heather made sure the pages of her book weren’t crooked as she gently closed it and set it down. 

“Oooh, there’s an accomplishment,” Veronica deadpanned, her eyes closing again as she put on her best newscaster voice. “Local girl too pathetic for resident bitch to torment, story at 11.” 

“Do you know how low that bar is? I see _Kurt and Ram_ almost every day,” Heather pointed out as Veronica laughed weakly. The lack of venom in Heather’s voice and attitude was… confusing. Not bad, necessarily; Veronica wasn’t really in the condition to fend off Heather Duke at her sharpest. She’d noticed it enough this morning that it couldn’t just be by accident, right? She brushed those thoughts aside for now, too tired to contemplate what they meant and instead just gave a soft hum back to Heather.

“Alright, up.” Heather instructed after… damn, she’d lost track of time again. Veronica blinked at Heather, prompting her to clap her hands at Veronica. “Up! We’re getting you home before you start drooling and leaving marks on Heather’s countertop.”

“I do not drool,” Veronica pouted at Heather, only to receive a scoff in return.

“I’ll get a polaroid of you sleeping next time, then we’ll revisit this.”

Veronica raised her head up with that, the conversation helping pull her brain out of the tar of being hungover and sleep-deprived. “You think there will be a next time?”

Heather shrugged back at her. She was already on her feet and heading towards the front door. “There definitely won’t be if you’re still here when Heather wakes up. Even if getting her up after a party is like trying to wake the dead.”

“You haven’t tried sticking some bolts on her neck and hooking her up to a lightning rod?” Veronica quipped, trying to hop off the stool. With how tired she was, the motion was more like a flag unfurling lazily in the breeze, but she was at least standing now. Plus, she caught genuine amusement - or as close to it as she’d seen before from her - on Heather’s face. 

“Hmmmm.” Heather made a show of considering something, eyes narrowing while she waited for Veronica to catch up to her in the entry hall. She already had her jacket in hand while Veronica’s - which had somehow made the journey with her through all of her walking through Sherwood after midnight - hung near the door. 

“Do I risk her asking what else was discussed or do I just hope that being compared to Frankenstein’s monster is enough to make her see red about you?” Veronica’s eyes widened as she jerked forward, only for her brief burst of energy to falter when Heather snickered. “Oh relax.”

Veronica frowned back at Heather, taking long enough to put words together that Heather tossed her jacket towards her. Apparently having something flying at your face helps with processing, or whatever, because Veronica was able to catch it and then speak after a moment of panic. “Why the fuck would I do that?” 

Exhausted and still suffering from the combo platter of a hangover she’d earned from last night, Veronica wasn’t sure if she imagined the hitch in Heather’s move towards the door. But either way, she reached it without much delay, pausing only to glance back over her shoulder. “C’mon.”

She followed Heather out the front door, pulling her jacket tight around her slender frame. Veronica shivered in the morning chill but found herself thankful that it wasn’t as windy as it had been last night, when she’d be contemplating what the fuck she was going to do. Though, now her thoughts were trying to put this morning’s happenings in order. It had to be just her imagination, that Duke seemed… different around her than before, right? _No, she’s probably just recovering from last night too_ , Veronica mused as she pulled herself up to the passenger seat. Duke had them on the road a moment later while her brain kept ticking along. Things were a bit less strained when they were all in private - it had always been that way, perhaps with the exception of McNamara. Well, insomuch that three weeks could really count as ‘always’ in any capacity. 

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Hm?” Veronica was pulled back out of her thoughts again, looking over towards Heather and realizing they were at one of the two stop lights they’d go through on the drive back to her house. She’d heard what Duke had said but wasn’t all that clear on what she meant.

“About watching out for each other,” Heather elaborated, prompting Veronica’s eyebrows to go up. She’d expected some needling about zoning out again, not this. Heather glanced her way just before the light turned green, a little quieter as she continued. “Sticking up for your friends.”

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Veronica watched Duke, trying to see what she was getting at - on a regular day, one with even a few more hours of sleep, she would be able to find what was bugging her about this whole morning, but now it was just out of her reach. _Grasp for fog later, Sawyer_ , her inner critic grumbled, too tired even to pick at her self-worth; a thought which she quickly ignored. “Don’t you think so?”

Heather’s eyes flicked back towards her again, the silence doing little to soothe Veronica’s building sense of disquiet. That only deepened when it stretched out longer, until she had to focus on the yellows and reds and browns of passing trees for fear of letting her mind just dig further into this hole if she kept waiting on Heather to say something. 

By the time they reached Veronica’s house, she had almost managed to push the foggy sense of concern back into the corner of her mind where so many unpleasant thoughts lived. Instead, she was looking forward to a shower and falling into her bed for however many hours she could manage before having to face whatever punishment was handed down to her by the Demon Queen and her court. She pulled herself upright and stretched her arms over her head until she felt - and heard - some pops in her back.

“Gross.”

“Mmm, you’re just jealous,” Veronica brushed off Heather’s comment, stretching her legs out as far as she could and letting her eyes close at the moment of bliss that brought her. So simple but so, _so_ good. She blinked away the pull of sleep - another simple pleasure that was _so_ close - to open the door and start sliding off the seat. 

“Wait.”

Which, stopping yourself while moving out of a car - especially one that had some height to it like Heather’s Jeep - wasn’t easy, but Veronica felt like she acquitted herself admirably given the circumstances. “You couldn’t have said that _before_ I had half my ass off the seat?” She groused, pulling herself back up to the seat and expecting some scoff or snort or other derisive form of amusement; when none followed, she looked over to Heather with her eyebrows knit with concern. 

Heather’s silence wasn’t entirely unusual. She’d quickly picked up that of the three, Heather Duke spoke the least - not because she didn’t have a lot to say, but because she liked to pick her words carefully and with purpose. But in the three weeks that felt like a lifetime, Veronica had rarely seen Heather _struggle_ for words like she appeared to be doing now. She let another moment pass, watching as Heather seemed ready to start a couple times only to halt again all while her fingers were wringing the steering wheel. 

“Heather?” Veronica prompted, shifting a little closer with more concern in her voice than she realized at first. “Is something-?”

“Thank you.” She blinked a few times, not sure just what to think but deciding not to interrupt. “For last night,” Heather added, still not meeting Veronica’s eyes. 

“Yeah, of course,” Veronica replied, waiting again to see if Heather would continue. “I’ll, uh- I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” She offered after a few beats of silence. It felt redundant at this point to add more to the list of things she’d didn’t quite get about this morning, but this one seemed… significant. Why… well, that was for more caffeinated and rest minds to ponder.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Heather nodded, eyes staying forward as she brushed imaginary dust from the console. Except, that is, for one quick glance back over at Veronica and accompanied by what Veronica swore was a half of a smile. 

Veronica opened the door again and slid out of the green Jeep, uninterrupted this time, and barely was able to close it before Heather was pulling out of the driveway. She sighed as she plucked her house key out of a zip-up pocket on the inside of her jacket. _What the fuck was_ that _all about?_ She wondered to herself, only to receive the mental equivalent of a busy signal when she mused on the morning for more than a few seconds.

“Whatever,” Veronica murmured, closing the door behind her and glad to see that her parents weren’t up yet. She trudged into the kitchen to scrawl a hasty note - _Was out late, sleeping in, Veronica <3 - _to keep her parents from waking her, then made for the stairs. 

“This whole morning is a problem for future Veronica,” she hummed to herself, eyelids feeling heavier the closer she got to her room. She bumped her bedroom door closed with her hip, getting herself free of the overall dress with more fluidity than she felt was possible at this stage of exhaustion. Shedding her top was slightly more complicated, if only because she couldn’t step out of it and let it fall to the floor, but soon enough she had stripped down, grabbed her diary, and was wrapped up in her blankets.

“Dear Diary,” she began, staring at the pages for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Let’s talk tomorrow.” With that, Veronica closed her treasured diary and put it on her nightstand. By the time she had rolled back to the bed proper, she was already falling into the comforting dark of sleep.

 **_So, this morning, I do what every_ ** ~~**_dumbass with a death wish_ ** ~~ **_good friend would do: face the music. I just wish I’d been even close to guessing what kind song it was going to be…_ **

“Westerburg to Veronica? Come in, pillowcase?” Heather chimed, snapping her fingers in front of Veronica’s face and making her startle back a half-step. In heels, Heather was taller than Veronica and having to look up to Chandler at this moment was not lost on her. So, she did her best to meet Heather; she drew herself up taller than she felt and straightened her shoulders, even as a cold prickle went down her back.

“I said, do we have a deal?”

Veronica gulped, not daring to let her eyes leave Heather’s now, not when she was so close to her goal. Certainly not when she feared what would happen if she looked away, even for a second. She took one last quick inhale, exhaling only a fraction slower, and nodded. “Yes.”

The smile that parted Heather’s ruby lips made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, a predatory leer that she imagined was the last thing so many poor animals had seen before their last moments. Her shoulders stiffened when Heather drew in close, acrylic nails brushing down her cheek, with everything else dead silent in the room. 

“Well then, girls,” Heather hummed, soft and low and dangerous in ways Veronica couldn’t even place. Heather only spared a glance over her shoulder before her eyes fixed back on Veronica, rooting her in place from the chill that spread down her spine. 

“Let’s make Veronica Sawyer _fat_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new lyric in Dead Girl Walking: 
> 
> "I won't try my hand at getting lucky - but god help me if I run off to Kentucky"


	3. Take a Picture, It'll Last Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back into the lion's den goes Veronica and things get a bit... confusing. And also gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, the kink starts here. technically the last sentence of the second chapter, but this is the part where it actually shows. don't blame you if you bail, but if you stick around, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> cw/tw for: 80s-typical homophobia (namely d-word slurs), bit more self-harm reference (though not as bad as the last chapter), body image issues, eating disorder references (standard for the canon).

_“...and that,”_ Veronica wrote, trying not to let her pen drag against the pages. She kept her writing compact and quick, knowing that she’d have letters taking up half the page if she let herself. She didn’t want to tear the pages of her diary after all; it wasn’t the diary’s fault for everything going sideways in such a spectacular fashion. “ _Is how the worst weekend of my life decided to crash into Monday and stick around for a while.”_

She sighed and leaned back against the cold brick. She’d skipped lunch and headed for an old haunt of hers from before she’d joined up with the Heathers, a period of time that felt further away with each passing second. The courtyard in the center of the otherwise drab, depressing building that fit the oppressive social structure of Westerburg High School so well. She hadn’t felt terribly hungry even before she had seen the greasy pizza slices that were the main item today, a fact that she refused to even acknowledge let alone categorize as she might normally. 

Was it denial? Only in the sense that Veronica was having trouble keeping pace - let alone accept - with the train wreck her life has become in so short a timeframe. Wonder was too positive a sentiment for what she felt weighed down - she winced, then scowled at her mind already rushing to apply new connotations - by under the overcast skies of September in Ohio. And respect, well; she certainly had a begrudged sense of the word for how effortlessly Heather’s pronouncement seemed to come together. 

By the time she’d gotten to lunch, word had spread through every circle and corner of the anxious, brawling ecosystem of Westerburg. Where not a few days earlier she’d felt curiosity and reverence in the eyes of other students, now she saw only a morbid sense of the former and dread, the warped, horrified cousin of the latter. 

No, the taste on her tongue - another twitch of her lip coming before she caught herself - was, even without accounting for the coffee she’d been guzzling, _bitter_ . Spread through the whispers of gossip that seemed to spring up unbidden, it had become known that Veronica Sawyer was, in fact, going to be punished for her transgressions against the social hierarchy. Not by being kicked out of the Heathers or dragged out in front of the school to be humiliating, but with something much slower and perhaps more complete. Exactly what that had been, a few had wondered? The answer had been two particular ominous syllables: _just watch_.

Something that spread so fast and so effectively, short of an actual plague, she knew could only have come from Heather Duke, maybe even aided and abetted by Peter Dawson and his newspaper staff. She wasn’t entirely sure _what_ the relationship between the two of them was, besides it being strictly professional, but she knew there were favors often traded back and forth. Thankfully the same haunting explanation of Veronica’s fate also spared the more… colorful details of her sentence. If they had gone public, she may not have even waited for the school day to be over before she begged her parents for a transfer. 

First was the obvious: in exchange for Martha Dunnstock being not just off-limits but everything short of sheltered by the Heathers, Veronica Sawyer was to… she couldn’t even believe it, not even now… she would have to fatten up. Not a pound or three or whatever, but to, in Heather’s own words, “get fat.” What that meant remained delightfully ambiguous, something that she realized in her politics class - her first without any of the Heathers present and where she’d gotten the chance to put her thoughts into her diary - no doubt as means to ensure control over her behavior. If she backed out, it was open season on Martha again, and probably more vulnerable than before. 

Veronica hadn’t felt the second point, to tell no one outright what was happening and why, was all that necessary. The thought of blabbing to everyone about why her clothes weren’t going to be fitting well in the near future made her stomach churn. Still, not knowing just what deal had been struck or the motives behind it made for excellent tinder. Who would dare cross the Heathers if their status and figure could be not just wrecked but used as an example for all to see?

The third and final - _for now_ , the dark corner of her mind murmured, and she couldn’t find the mental leverage to argue with it - point of the bargain had been much more of a private matter. Veronica would have her weight tracked every week, with weigh-ins and who knows what else, so that she couldn’t try and fake her way through the next… well, however long this lasted. Exactly what that all entailed, besides that the first would happen tonight at Heather Chandler’s place, wasn’t really spelled out to her and that was _not_ helping her turbulent state. 

“Fuck it,” Veronica growled under her breath, opening her purse with a snap and pulling out her lighter and pack of cigarettes. “I’m not under their rules until tonight anyway.” Oh, that had been a… suggestion, having come from Heather McNamara during history class. 

She’d thought her sheepish attitude was a front, but Heather had seemed… not torn, not enough to do anything about it. But reluctant, at the very least. And part of _that_ had resulted in her with a few ideas about how Veronica could make things go a bit easier. Stop smoking, make up some notes to lessen how many times she was in gym, bring snacks to school - Heather had even offered to help with the latter, though she’d clammed up when she realized Veronica was giving her a sour look. Well, as sour as she could manage with McNamara; the other girl had seemed like a kicked puppy when she’d glared at her and Veronica had walked back the reaction after only a few minutes of silence.

“Suggestion, rule, whatever,” Veronica grumbled as she took a deep breath, smoking burning all the way down her throat. She hadn’t even started smoking until she became a Heather and now she was annoyed about giving it up - and it wasn’t even that she really liked it! A cigarette (or three) had been something to help take the edge off her transition into the pinnacle of power at Westerburg, sure, and maybe scratch that itch of hers that had led to a few scars here and there over the years. What really burned her - she snorted quietly at that then exhaled sharply - was she was being _forced_ to give it up. 

She looked back down at her diary entry, the writing small and compact to not waste pages despite her frustrations. No, she sighed, taking another drag before flipping back through the several pages of tight scrawl that documented the last few days. It had been a choice, one that was long in the making if she was being honest with herself. Veronica had chosen to cast her lot in with the Heathers to escape being tormented for one more excruciating year. 

She had bailed on Martha, leaving her alone, and _then_ wrote the note that would have set her up for a cruel prank at both of their first parties. Just because she’d try to do the right thing eventually didn’t wipe out the choices she’d made to get to this place and it certainly didn’t excuse the consequences of her actions just because she’d _eventually_ listened to her conscious. _Good to see you’re putting Plato to use about a month too late_ , a voice in her mind reminded her, leading her to angrily snuff her cigarette on the concrete next to her skirt. 

A glance at her blue swatch told Veronica that she had about fifteen minutes left before her next class. _Math, ugh,_ she thought, taking care to grind her cigarette down to the filter and then flick that into the garbage can about ten feet away. Part of her wished she’d held out for a few more inhales - for the nicotine, for the burn in her lungs, maybe both - but frankly she was too pissed at- well, at _everything_ to be all that careful in her planning.

She hastily shoved her purse into her blue handbag and then laid her diary in it with more care. Perhaps the cherry on this particularly unappetizing day was that her schedule downright _sucked_ after lunch. Gym, math, and French, a descent which had her going from tolerably displeased to envying medieval torture each and every school day. “Well, upside,” Veronica muttered as she pulled her bag up against her shoulder, the worn straps contrasting the more vibrant blue of her blazer. “I’m sure I’ll be craving death itself in all three classes soon enough.”

 **_I still don’t know if I passed on dinner because I’m trying to fight back, or because I’m really,_ ** **_really_ ** **_not hungry, or because I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a lot of food at our… “study party.” Just love that particular lie but it’s the best I’ve got for why I’m going to be gone most of the night and leaving before dinner, and doing it every week. How ver-_ **

An insistent horn blaring out from somewhere beyond the front door made Veronica sigh and her eyes roll back into her head. She closed her diary midword and tucked it deep into her bag before pushing herself up off the couch so quickly that she was to the front door in three steps. Long legs, but also wanting to avoid hearing that grating sound for any longer. 

“Heading to study with Heather, be back tonight!” Veronica called out, not waiting for a response before she slipped out the door. There in all her glory, Heather gave her a poisonously sweet smile from her bright red Porsche before tacking on one more honk while Veronica stalked towards her, glaring all the way. She dropped herself into the passenger seat quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Not going to ask ‘is that really necessary’ this time?” Heather asked, her tone as candied as her smile. Veronica, meanwhile, just shot her a sidelong glare that - she thought at least - might peel some paint from the car’s hood. Heather apparently thought that was _delightful_ because she just chuckled - fucking _chuckled_ \- at her and put the sports car in reverse. 

Normally, she _would_ have picked at Heather for possibly her most annoying habit out of a long list of contenders. Which, to be fair, was a relatively small thing to get any kind of agitated about anyway… except that it felt like Heather was doing it _because_ of how small and pointless and unnecessary slamming on her horn was. Not for the first time, Veronica really wondered just what kind of disaster she had so eagerly flung herself into on the first day of senior year. Given what she was headed towards, maybe it was something she should have considered more thoroughly before writing up that hall pass.

“What’s wrong, ‘Ronica?” Heather’s teasing mood pulled her out of her own thoughts, though with her state of mind just as rotten. Not quite trusting herself to speak, not after this weekend, Veronica sighed and planted her elbow against the door of the car. “Oh come on, are you still upset about this whole thing?”

 _That_ brought Veronica’s head around to glare at Heather. In turn, the ginger tresses of the Queen Bee waved while she shook her head and tutted back at her. “I know I’m supposed to accept what’s happening, and I do,” Veronica began, rushing the last part before Heather could comment one way or the other on it. “But there’s a big gap between ‘accept’ and ‘be happy with,’ Heather.”

Heather rolled her eyes, shooting Veronica a look that somehow mixed snark and exhaustion in the perfect combination. “Please, are you kidding? You eat whatever you want and then some, you get out of gym class, you stay in the group, and your little friend is all safe and protected.” Veronica’s glare intensified at the babying style that Heather affected for the last part of her list.

“Stop being a pillowcase, Veronica. You put on thirty pounds and you can spend all summer losing it before college? How’s that so bad?” Heather waved her hand dismissively towards Veronica, her eyes back on the road. And, despite her own deep misgivings, when put on like that… well, it didn’t sound _terrible_ . There were a fuck ton of worse options that Veronica could come up with right there, and only a few of them involved her being dead. Sure, she really, _really_ hated being forced into all of this, but well, actions have consequences. 

She frowned at that run of circular thinking that had been so hard for her to unravel since she’d latched onto it Saturday night and early Sunday morning. _Ethical dilemmas later_ , Veronica groused internally, settling back into the passenger seat. _Survive tonight first_.

“What kind of pizza for tonight?” 

Veronica blinked at the straightforward question, one that wouldn’t be out of place with any normal night with Heather. So straightforward that she started to answer on default. “Pe-” She hitched as an idea came to her. _Wanna fuck with me, huh? Well, two can play that game._ “Pineapple and ham,” Veronica finished, trying not to smirk at how smooth she felt that went off. 

Pleased when she received a look of dismay and twitch in Heather’s lip at that, Veronica turned her attention back to the houses of Heather’s neighborhood. Sure, her family was well off. Anyone who enjoyed pâté and had a favorite croquet mallet (and occasionally wrote with a monocle) didn’t really have room to say they were poor after all. The first time she’d gone to Heather’s house though, she’d been blown away; who the hell needed three TVs for their room? So, the closer they got, passing by houses and yards that Veronica had walked by and perhaps threw up in one of the latter, she had dueling sensations of marvel and creeping unease. 

_You’ll have time to get used to it,_ hummed her traitorous brain, a reminder that came with so many layers it should have been a cake. Veronica scowled at both the sentiment and the particular metaphor. _Do we have to think in food terms already?_ She steadfastly ignored the use of ‘we’ for her internal monologue, given that the options were either defiance of grammar or sanity with equal disdain for either. _Technically, it could be a royal we_.

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, eyes closed at the different strands of her brain all seeming to come unraveled at once.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Veronica sighed at her normal volume. There was no way in hell she was going to explain to Heather Chandler, her best frenemy if there ever was such a thing, just how at odds she felt over… everything. It wasn’t just the usual need for a relationship to grow so you could open up to someone either, not when the issue was what lurked in the dark of her mind. 

The blunt truth was that she didn’t trust Heather to keep something that could be leveraged over her in confidence. She could count on one hand, without using all of her fingers, the people who knew just how deep those depths went and Heather Chandler was _absolutely_ not on that list. The idea of her even being potentially one of those people was enough to unite the warring factions in her head. 

_I will trust Heather Chandler when hell freezes over and not a second before._

That thought stuck to the inside of her skull and only helped further her mounting apprehension. She’d already had a sinking feeling in her stomach before Heather had picked her up and now she was working hard to keep her leg from bouncing with nerves. Her breath actually caught when she saw Heather’s house with her only realizing to exhale when she started to hear her heartbeat in her ears. _It’s fine, it’ll all be fine, it’ll just be for a little bit and not that much,_ Veronica thought in a rush that matched her pounding pulse. _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine_.

Her ad hoc mantra did little to calm her by the time the Porsche came to a stop next to a familiar Jeep. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat and held her bag in close against her chest as she walked behind Heather, eyes fixed on the seam between her shoulders. Veronica thought, for the briefest moment when Heather had to look through her purse for her key, that she should run. Where, she had no clue but she was not above ruling out Kentucky at this point. 

The door opened both before Heather could find her key and Veronica’s panic could come to a boil. Inside was Heather McNamara, looking sunny and much more alert than the last time she’d answered the door for Veronica. “Hi Heather! Hi Veronica!”

“Did you find everything?” Heather asked, striding into her house like, well, she owned it. Which, technically, she didn’t but sort of did, and now Veronica was just letting any possible rabbithole derail her thoughts entirely. Her feet moved on autopilot, following the bright red blazer and ginger locks that brushed against Heather’s shoulderpads. 

“Yep! Heather’s got it all set up in your room,” Heather replied back, while Veronica found herself a little disturbed by how even now McNamara was so cheery. _Granted_ , she thought, _an execution probably was a very different experience for the executioner and victim_. 

“Good.” Heather had the door closed before Veronica fully realized what had happened. Again, she did her best to push foreboding thoughts out of her head, this time in the form of the monster movie vibes she’d gotten from approaching Heather’s door the other night. _All we need is some lightning and creepy laughter_.

Belatedly, she recognized that her chance at escape had plummeted with the door being closed, but found herself… oddly okay with that? Whether or not this was a good idea, whether or not it’d amount to much besides a terrible year for her, she’d committed. And if there was one thing that Veronica Sawyer was, undoubtedly it was being more stubborn than a brick wall when she made up her mind. 

“Should we add anything to the usual order, Heather?” Veronica looked over towards McNamara, her unfocused stare into the middle distance apparently going unnoticed. 

“Pineapple and ham. Veronica’s choice,” Chandler answered with a bump to Veronica’s arm. That, to Veronica’s chagrin, had the effect of putting her back at the center of attention. Her eyes darted between the stark contrast of the two Heathers, with Chandler looking like an unamused cat - and one who might have decided to play with her food, better known as Veronica - and McNamara, who was smiling warmly at her. 

“Ooh, I’ve had that before. It’s pretty good!” Heather chirped. Veronica, in spite of the unease that felt bone-deep at this point, was heartened by McNamara’s presence at the very least. And while confusing, her recent interactions with Duke had been… positive, she was pretty sure. So, this was probably going to suck; but maybe it didn’t have to be miserable?

Right?

The silence from more negative parts of her mind, again, served more to unnerve her than any answer might have in its place.

“Um, so, how’s this…?” Veronica asked while glancing from McNamara to Chandler. 

“Well, we usually hang out in Heather’s room-” McNamara began, only to be cut off by Chandler.

“We’ll go over everything upstairs. Leave your shoes at the door,” she directed while heading to the kitchen, leaving Veronica and McNamara alone. Veronica plucked at her laces for a moment before dropping her foot back to the floor when she wobbled on one leg. She went for her shoe again, this time with her back leaning against the wall, and managed to get the laces undone and shoe off in a few seconds. 

Another moment and she was just left in her knee high blue socks, which - had Heather not told her to come in her normal (or what was normal now anyway) school outfit, she would have gone with something much different. As it was, she’d thrown some lounging clothes into her handbag on the off chance that tonight wasn’t purely an exercise in humiliation. _Open question on that one,_ she thought dryly. 

“You’re not allergic to anything, right?”

“Huh?” Veronica looked up from setting her shoes down by the door.

“Food allergy, that is,” Heather McNamara continued, her fingers grasping the middle knuckles on her other hand. “I didn’t think you were, but I realized it hasn’t been that long and I didn’t want to bake anything for you without knowing for sure.”

Veronica tilted her head a little at Heather. She was having trouble following everything tonight, like there were a few pieces of the puzzle just out of sight at all times. _Like that’d be a new thing with the Heathers_ , she thought, for once not finding an objection with the darker corner of her mind. It was only then, as Heather’s eyebrows began to furrow, that she realized she hadn’t actually responded. 

“Uh, no, not that I know of,” Veronica replied with a shrug.

“Anything that you tend to like more? Or dislike?” Heather followed up.

Veronica hummed a little as she thought, only to look back at Heather with a crooked smile. “Ah… well, lots, but I don’t think we have time right now for that.”

Heather grinned back at Veronica, the earnest warmth coming from McNamara hard to deny and harder still to keep from sparking something in her chest. “That’s okay! We’ll have time to talk about it soon.”

Before Veronica could try to parse what _that_ meant, Chandler returned with a bottle of vodka. “Alright, let’s get this shit started.” She waggled the bottle in her hand then gestured towards the hall and stairs beyond as she started walking. “Sooner we get the ground rules sorted, the sooner we can have pizza.”

Following quickly when McNamara followed, not wanting to be left behind at this stage of things. As she walked through the hall and up the stairs, Veronica held her tongue and tried to not let her previous trek color her thoughts too much. Despite going to her punishment, or something to do with it - the lack of clarity was _really_ starting to bug her - the sense that she was headed to her execution was nowhere near as strong as it had been early Sunday morning. Which, she realized in a moment that made her groan aloud, was only yesterday. 

Chandler shot a glance back over her shoulder at the sound. “What’re you pissing and moaning about?”

“The passage of time,” Veronica replied flatly, trudging towards Heather’s room again. How the fuck was Sunday somehow only yesterday? Meanwhile, Heather just chuckled from in front of her.

“I’d say don’t worry about it, but well…” Chandler turned to open her door, giving a shrug and a look that didn’t look all that regretful. 

Any reply Veronica might have managed was stolen away when the door opened and Heather’s pale skin took on a rainbow tint. She stepped into Heather’s room and found herself a bit dumbfounded - mostly because it wasn’t, well. _Red_. She hadn’t imagined that; no matter how messed up she’d been, the hues of crimson and scarlet and pink that accented the white walls had been almost as memorable as what had happened in this room were still present. But instead of the flickering light cast by Heather’s television, the room was illuminated by what Veronica realized were Christmas lights. Strung all around the room, from the headboard of Chandler’s bed and across her dresser, to on top of the television and even up and across the door frame. 

_There’s probably enough of them for a whole tree_ , Veronica gawked, only to come out of it when she noticed the impish smile on Heather’s lips. 

“Do you like them?” McNamara asked her, still at Veronica’s side. 

Veronica glanced at the lights again, still trying to put her thoughts together. She’d expected black curtains or candles, maybe even a rune drawn on the floor or some other dark ritual shit. The only reason she’d ruled out a guillotine or animal sacrifice was because she knew they wanted her alive and also that two of the three Heathers were emphatically against hurting animals. So this - brightly colored, inviting, almost comforting even - was. Well, it was not what she pictured as the setting for whatever was going to happen tonight. 

“Yeah,” she finally managed, a hesitant smile coming to her lips despite herself. “Yeah, it’s actually really nice.”

“Heather picked those out,” Duke commented from the couch. Veronica glanced from the third member of the trio, before back to the two she’d been with for the last few minutes. Her eyes went back and forth for a moment before she stopped on her guess for the Heather that Duke was referencing.

“Heather… McNamara?” Veronica asked, with Heather squealing happily. 

“Yes! It’s _so_ pretty, right? Plus, with the lantern and Heather’s lamp, we don’t have to turn them off to actually-”

“We should get started,” Heather Chandler interrupted, causing McNamara to droop at her gushing being cut short. Chandler _did_ glance at McNamara, giving her a smile that had what looked like more genuine affection in it than Veronica had ever seen on the Demon Queen’s face. “It _is_ really nice though, especially with the new lantern.”

McNamara was beaming again by the time Chandler was shooing them over to the couch. While Chandler and McNamara took spots on the couch to join Duke, Veronica was directed to the other side of a glass coffee table that probably cost more than her last three Christmases. That only contributed to how disoriented she was feeling. 

Seeing Heather Duke on the couch, her legs on the couch with her knees just inches from Chandler’s own and looking, well… surprisingly comfortable? That was odd. Come to think of it, Veronica had trouble thinking of a time she’d seen Heather Duke both conscious and relaxed at the same time. McNamara, she was used to being warm, but she looked downright excited tonight and Veronica wasn’t sure if she found that reassuring or alarming. And Chandler was not just being nice but almost deferential at times to the other two, not telling Heather Duke to move and openly complimenting the other two? 

_How far through the goddamn Looking Glass_ am _I?_ Veronica wondered. That thought was only fueled by her standing in her usual school outfit - blazer, blouse, skirt, and knee high socks - in contrast to the Heathers. Each of the three girls were in various comfortable looking clothes suited more for sleep than… well, whatever she had thought tonight would look like. 

“Let’s begin,” Heather Chandler said, snapping Veronica out of her musing. She anxiously shifted her weight a little from one hip to the other. While it wasn’t a new feeling, or one even contained to just this room, it was hard not to feel skewered by Heather’s eyes no matter what the circumstance. 

“Alright, um, before we start, can I say something?” Veronica said, swallowing as her nerves started to catch up with her. 

Chandler raised an eyebrow but gestured for Veronica to continue. In turn, Veronica took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice!” 

Dead silence.

Veronica cracked one eye open. McNamara had a confused look on her face, Chandler was scowling back at her, and Duke - to her surprise - seemed to be trying her best to keep a straight face. “Listen, I make terrible jokes when I’m nervous and I want to lighten the mood.” She paused again. “Also, I wasn’t entirely sure that tonight would be free of some kind of summoning from hell.”

Chandler let out an huff that sounded maybe a little entertained at the last part, but otherwise kept her unamused expression. Veronica could still see Duke’s lips twitching when McNamara murmured, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s from the movie,” Veronica began glancing quickly from Chandler to McNamara. “You know, Beetlejuice? You say his name three times and he appears?”

“Nerd,” Chandler scoffed.

“For seeing a movie?” Veronica huffed back at her, frowning.

“She would kind of look like Lydia if she dressed like a goth,” Duke offered, looking a bit more under control but with her lips curled at the edge. 

“Guys, I have no idea what we’re talking about,” McNamara pouted, mainly directed at the two girls on the couch but with a fleeting look to Veronica.

“I made a mistake,” Veronica muttered while Duke snickering at her admission. 

“We’ll watch it sometime,” Chandler waved her hand to forestall any further comments, though it didn’t seem like any others were coming. Duke looked content to just smirk at Veronica and McNamara appeared to be mollified, especially after Heather continued. “It’s weird but I think you’d like it, Mac.”

McNamara smiling was enough to put Veronica at ease for all of a second before piercing blue eyes fell on her again and made her tense up. “We were going to start inviting you anyway, but these are going to be a bit different than before,” Chandler began, her voice a bit closer to what usually commanded attention, fear, and admiration in equal measure in the halls of Westerburg. The shift in the room was apparent in how the other two held themselves, some of the warmth receding as Heather Duke pulled her legs in a bit tighter. 

“We’re going to start with a weigh-in and… inspection,” Chandler continued, hesitating on the last word. More in the way of someone looking for the right word than any doubt in what was about to happen. Duke shifted on the couch and Veronica saw that her focus had shifted towards the glowing lights strung around the top of Heather’s TV. “Can’t have you just stuffing a pillow under your shirt and pretending that’s good enough.”

“Um, I was gonna ask, actually, just what-”

“After the weigh-in,” Heather cut Veronica off. Maybe it was just how _weird_ things had felt since she’d started throwing rocks at Heather’s window. Maybe it was seeing all three of the Heathers, known in equal measure for their wealth, looks, and ruthlessness, actually appear… kind? _That might be a little too far_ , she considered. But whatever it was, the three weeks she’d spent learning the ins and outs of the group now felt like only half of the picture. 

While Veronica had been silently mulling - yet again - what the fuck was going on, McNamara slipped off the couch and headed for Chandler’s bed. Veronica didn’t actually pick up that she’d left until she came back with a metal square in hand. McNamara placed it - _a scale_ , Veronica gulped - on the red carpet next to her feet and gave her a glance that was hard for her to get a read on. 

McNamara made one last adjustment to the room, which was to turn the round top of something on the coffee table that Veronica recognized as the ‘lantern’ a moment before it lit up. Perhaps most interestingly, it projected only a bit of light out and hardly any up; instead, most of it went down through the glass table. The result was a warm, indirect glow that lit up the area around the table quite well without washing out the lights above.

“Veronica.” Chandler’s voice brought her back to the moment again. _Zoning out won’t help you,_ the voice needled her, which Veronica ignored as she reluctantly stepped on the scale. “Blazer off,” Heather added, with a twirl of her fingers. Veronica sighed and shrugged her shoulders out of her signature blue blazer, gathering it and tossing on one of the nearby chairs. 

“Normally I charge for anything more.” Duke again snickered at Veronica’s dry tone. It was hard for her to tell in the mixed lighting, but she thought she saw the ghost of a smile flash across Chandler’s lips. _Hm. New rules,_ Veronica considered, not entirely sure yet what to think of how different this all was from what she saw at school or even when they were out together in town. 

“No need to be a pillowcase _and_ a dyke, Veronica. Everyone satisfied?” _There’s that dismissive tone I’m used to_ , she thought with a sigh. Not _that_ different then, but good to at least test out what this was going to be like. She heard a hum from Duke and saw McNamara nodding from where she stood a few feet away. After a moment, Chandler spoke again. “Alright, on the scale.” 

Unlike any number of her peers - friend, foe, and frenemy alike - Veronica never really had a difficult relation with the scale and, more directly, her weight. She was a bit taller than most girls, sure, and now and then she wished for something… different. Maybe a figure that was a bit more filled out, maybe a bit less on her thighs or stomach. There wasn’t even a lot of fat anyway; rather, it was more that she wasn’t exactly an athlete and she liked her pâté and snacks. So her face was a little round, that was mostly just her bone structure - the same that Heather herself had complimented on that first fateful morning - and a little of what her mom had called ‘puppy fat.’ Complaints? Yeah, of course, she was a teenage girl in the fucking Eighties, all she had to do was look in a magazine to have moments of feeling fat. But on the whole, when it came to her body? She felt… fine. And that was before her makeover at the hands of the Heathers had shown that with some work, she could actually look flatout beautiful.

Now though? This was perhaps the first time when Veronica had felt real resentment or fear towards this simple machine that, for better or worse, would hold a great deal of sway in what her life looked like for the next few months at least. Glaring at the scale as she stepped onto it felt petty but if being part of the Heathers had taught her anything, it was that her measure of petty was downright gentle compared to the others in the room. 

“122.” Veronica huffed at McNamara saying the number aloud, but her sour look softened when she saw the other girl’s apologetic look. Her job done, McNamara went back to the couch and took her seat while Chandler wrote in a notebook that Veronica had missed before.

“And one more thing,” Chandler hummed, bringing Veronica’s grimace back in full force - though that turned into a look of dismay when she put down the pen and instead held up a polaroid camera. 

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Veronica spat, halfway between a whine and the verbal equivalent of flipping her off. In response, Chandler just raised an eyebrow and stared back at her. 

“Final piece of insurance. Which means clothes come off,” Heather directed. 

“Weren’t you just saying something about ‘dykes’ and that?” Veronica huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture, she realized, was as much about defiance as it was preemptive in trying to cover up. She was at least given some consolation in seeing a flash of… _something_ that she couldn’t quite read pass across Heather’s face.

“ _T_ _hat_ was about you doing it on your own. Now you’re doing what you’ve been told.” Veronica had to bite back a scoff - and maybe a laugh - at the idea of ‘doing what she’s been told.’ Not to mention that the distinction Heather was making was pretty damn thin, in her own humble opinion. 

“Um, if you’re not comfortable-”

“This _is_ punishment, Heather,” Chandler interrupted McNamara, the latter slumping a bit back into the couch. “Besides, it’s just us girls. Nothing we haven’t seen getting ready for gym,” Heather added in a sweeter tone than before. 

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with,” Veronica scowled, already starting on the buttons of her white blouse. Part of her, oh, part of her wanted to make Chandler _suffer_ even if this was supposed to be her punishment. She preferred to think of it as an ‘arrangement,’ usually spoken in a vaguely malevolent tone and with a British accent. _Focus, one digression at a time_ , she chastised, huffing aloud even as she tried to reel in her thoughts. 

She shrugged off her blouse once all the buttons had been undone, ignoring the building flush on her face. Veronica barely let the blouse gather on her arms before she went for the zipper on her gray skirt. Her thoughts of making this embarrassing for more than just her had faded as, well, it was _actually_ kind of embarrassing! So instead, she just focused on getting it over as fast as possible. Which is why, after a brief shimmy to get her skirt free of her hips, she stood in front of the Heathers. In her underwear and bra and knee high blue socks, because of course. Probably blushing and definitely thankful for the lowlight in the room. 

“Happy?” Veronica grumbled, her arms leaving their default position of being wrapped around her stomach for a brief and almost comically exaggerated shrug. Those thoughts before, of being comfortable - maybe even a little bit confident - in her body weren’t holding up so well at the moment. Most of that was probably the context; after all, this was pretty much to document her being this size and shape for the last time in… well, she hoped for not very long but that hadn’t worked out well for her lately. 

Not that she was the only one who seemed a bit _off_ at the moment. Heather Duke was still notably averting her eyes, for reasons that Veronica couldn’t begin to fathom, while McNamara’s were glancing to Veronica and then away like she was trying to avoid being caught. Chandler, of course, just stared at her like the sphinx she so often appeared to with the student body. So, yeah, maybe she was a little self-conscious about her stomach and thighs not being all that toned. Or, perhaps for a different set of reasons, the black bra - picked out this morning without thinking too much about - she wore that contrasted with her olive skin tone. _Stupid Chandler_ , she grumbled internally, crossing her arms again.

“Thrilled,” Chandler replied, adopting the tone that sounded pleased on the surface and only revealed its deeper meaning - that of progressing conversations as quick as possible - with repeated exposure. Veronica didn’t really have time to consider just what _that_ meant because the Demon Queen’s next command followed immediately. 

“Arms down.” Veronica sighed and stared back at Chandler, deciding that getting this over was better than anything… well, _almost_ anything. Just before Heather took the first picture, she shot her middle finger up at the camera. A scowl lined in scarlet lips was there to meet here when the flash from the camera started to fade. “And _fingers_ down, too,” she sneered.

“That was a pretty good one though,” McNamara offered while Veronica chuckled softly. As soon as she dropped her hand to her side, the camera flashed again and Veronica winced.

“A little warning, maybe?”

“Maybe when you’re good,” Chandler replied. Veronica wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, or the prickling sensation that went up her back at hearing those words, in that voice… she shook her head briefly. “What was that?”

“Nothing, I had to sneeze.” Chandler stared back at her for a moment then gestured for her to turn to the side for a profile shot.

“Arms up,” she directed. Veronica bit biting back the desire to tell her to fuck off, again, and held her arms out in front of her. _If you were wearing pants, they’d be on fire,_ an intruding thought that interrupted her scowling. She decided not to dignify with more than a moment of passing concern. Especially not when said pantslessness was captured on film with another snap, flash, whir, and click. 

“Can I put my clothes back on now?” Veronica huffed, hoping that her glare was enough to convince Chandler that this was enough. Or at least singe her eyelashes.

“Nope.” Veronica turned to face her, crossing her arms over her breasts, just glaring back. Unfortunately, she was met with a smirk that made goosebumps go up her bare arms. “Turn around.”

It only took Veronica a moment to realize what _that_ meant. “Oh come _on_ ,” she replied, not even bothering to try to sound like she was doing anything but whine. “Seriously?”

“We,” Heather began while delicately placing a hand to her chest, “Are nothing if not thorough, Veronica. And how can we say that we’re done if we don’t get one of your best angles?”

Veronica tightened her arms against her chest, as if that would be any kind of protection at this point in the night’s festivities. After a minute of staring back at Chandler’s unflappable smirk and with her face growing warm, Veronica just grumbled and turned around so that her backside was facing Heather. Before the growing self-consciousness in her head made her adjust her underwear-- 

Snap, flash, whir, click, and it was done. 

Veronica wheeled back around, still feeling flushed and Heather’s cloying grin just making her even more sour. “ _Now_ can I get dressed?” She grumbled, again fighting the urge to fidget. No need to give these three any more evidence of how badly she wanted to be _anywhere_ else right now. 

“Oh, I suppose,” Heather hummed back to her, voice as honeyed as her expression.

“It’d be nice to look at something other than the ceiling,” Duke chipped in, trying for all the world to sound bored but coming across more forced than anything to Veronica. And _that_ was only slightly less confusing than McNamara’s comment just after.

“Veronica’s nice to look at,” she added in, almost like she was defending the subject of the three rapidly developing polaroids. That made Veronica look up from her position, currently crouched over her clothes and with her skirt already midway up her thighs. Duke’s sigh and dismissive wave were directed at McNamara’s comment, leaving Veronica to just try and puzzle her way through what the fuck this all meant. Granted, she did catch Heather Chandler still looking at her and she hurried to finish getting at least her blouse back on.

Buttons hastily redone and skirt pulled up to a comfortable spot against her hips and stomach, she quickly tucked her hair back behind her ears and looked back at the trio. “Now what?”

With barely a breath of silence, the doorbell rang from downstairs. And if Veronica thought she was uncomfortable before, the expecting looks from the three Heathers - wildly varied in each - served to bring back the icy weight in her stomach that she hoped she had left behind the other night. 

“What do you think, Veronica?” Chandler hummed again. “It’s time for dinner.”


	4. Into the Generous Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: referenced eating disorder (canon-typical), stuffing
> 
> Pizza's here! Namely, a lot of it for Veronica. Speaking of which, things are about to get murky for her - and in ways she doesn't quite expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Heather's Day! 
> 
> heeeeeey... so, I'm still alive! sorry about the almost six month delay here but uh. 2020's a real son of a bitch, as I'm sure a lot of you already know! to that end, I have some good news and some bad news, though to what degree on both I'll let y'all be the judge.
> 
> bad news first: turns out having anxiety, on top of a couple other major mental health things, means that doing anything in the realm of functional during a global pandemic (especially living in the country that's the world wide leader in infections!) is... rough. writing three chapters in about two months to one chapter in six is frustrating, to say the least. and given that things probably aren't going to get a ton better, I don't know if the pace is going to be any bit significantly faster. I'd like to say so, but can't be sure.
> 
> good news: I am hopefully getting some help on the anxiety that, if it pans out, will likely make doing anything a *lot* easier. and, despite those issues, I did keep chipping away at this almost every day. just sometimes that was like. a sentence. but any progress is progress, at least for how things have been going for me this year. 
> 
> if you've stuck around this far and want to keep on reading, thank you, so much. if you haven't, I definitely understand. and either way, if you read through this chapter, I hope you enjoy. for anyone in the kink mindset, this is where you start to see some things actually show up.

“Dinner? When did-” Veronica paused while her brain caught up to her mouth, her frown deepening. “Ah. When you went into the kitchen earlier.”

“And here I thought you had a brain tumor for breakfast this morning,” Chandler sighed. It was melodramatic but… Veronica’s frown stayed on her face as she realized that maybe it wasn’t all that mocking in nature? Maybe? It was honestly hard to tell with how many weird angles she’d been thrown for in the last couple days. “I’m going to get the pizza. Heather, drinks?”

“Of course!” McNamara bounded up from the couch, still bright in the dim room, and with a grin that Veronica… well, despite everything, she made her feel a bit better about the whole situation. Not much better, but still. That warm feeling in her chest _did_ grow when Heather turned her gaze towards her, bringing a weak smile to Veronica’s lips. “What do you want to drink?”

“Um.” _Great time to freeze up, huh?_ In her defense, Veronica was still trying to collect her wits from the twists and turns and the whole half-naked, weigh-in, pictures thing. That didn’t stop her from wanting to smack that part of her brain like the whack-a-mole game at the arcade, of course. “Water?”

Chandler made a face at her, disappointed in an impressively condescending fashion. “Really?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Fine. Root beer, if you’ve got it?” That only brought a few snickers. “What? It’s tasty!”

“Pillowcase,” Chandler hummed as she stood up, heading to the door with a gesture to McNamara. “Back in ten, don’t burn the place down.”

Duke rolled her eyes and scoffed but otherwise ignored Chandler’s jab. She _did_ give a response when she noticed Veronica’s disgruntled stare, however, shooting a look back at her. “Yes?”

Veronica, with lips pursed and eyebrows knit, didn’t flinch. “Weren’t you the one said I could stand to lose a few pounds, not put them on?”

Duke frowned at her comment, shifting so her legs were in front of her rather than curled on the couch. “Look, it wasn’t my idea.” Veronica’s disbelieving huff brought Duke up short. “Seriously!”

“Really?” Veronica brought her arms up over her chest again, not entirely sure if her intent was to protect or reassure herself. Both wasn’t out of the question, especially as some bitterness crept into her tone. “You’re telling me you won’t be happy to make sure there’s one less girl who’s thinner than you at school?”

Duke drew back at that, not quite like she had been struck but with a suddenness that made Veronica doubt herself. As a silence filled in the space between them, one that had felt almost comfortable just a day before, that feeling deepened. And when Duke finally replied, it was with a quiet voice and her eyes fixed on her green backpack. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Duke murmured, staying still for a moment before pulling her bag closer and retrieving her book from it. She just kept her eyes on the book, holding it close and staying quiet. “Heather hasn’t told you about what these are, has she?”

Veronica frowned back at her, though more out of genuine confusion than distrust. She shook her head, arms still crossed as she went to grab her blazer; without it on, she found it a bit chilly. She watched as Duke again seemed to consider her options in her head first, staring at the beaten up book cover. “She should probably tell you then,” she finally said, glancing up when Veronica sighed with one arm already in the sleeve.

“Do you let Heather decide when you speak all the time?” Veronica grumbled back, stalking over to the chair closest to Duke and falling into it so she could glare at the door out to the hallway. It was only because she saw Duke twitch that she noticed how the other girl was glaring back at her. “Oh, am I imagining all the times she told you to sh-” Veronica stopped when she saw something jagged in Heather’s eyes, but half a beat too late.

“You don’t-” Heather began, her voice shaking almost as much as her fingers. Her searing glare made Veronica actually shift back a little. “You don’t know-”

“Yeah, I _don’t_ know,” Veronica cut back, all the frustration she’d held back with the Heathers - Chandler in particular - starting to boil over. Her fingers ran up her arms until they were rubbing her eyebrows in frustration, all while her voice grew louder. “I don’t know what the hell is going on or what I shouldn’t do, and how bad it’ll be if I don’t follow all the rules, which I don’t even know what they are!” 

Veronica gulped down a breath, not realizing how fast her pulse was racing until she stopped talking. She let loose of her face, eyes closed as she took another hurried breath and planted her elbows on her thighs so they could prop her up. It took a few more cycles of forcing herself to take deep breaths and slowly exhale before she was able to look back up at Duke, with that same unreadable expression. A few moments before, it would have been infuriating to her but now it just felt… wanting, in some way she couldn’t place.

Heather, for her part, just held her book tight and remained quiet while Veronica continued to slowly bring her breathing under control. “I… probably know what you mean better than you think I do,” she began, her voice a bit rougher than it had been before Veronica’s outburst. 

She had expected Duke to continue, but silence again filled in the space between them. She glanced over to Duke, but the other girl’s eyes were on her book - more specifically, on its cover, where her thumb worked in a slow circle around the title. Only by the time that Veronica herself had managed to get herself to a mostly normal heart rate (at least for someone with anxiety problems and a caffeine addiction) did Duke again speak. 

“We… we do this,” Heather began, gesturing around to the room in a way that Veronica wasn’t sure entirely how to interpret. “We do this every week. When Heather’s parents aren’t home, which is almost always during the week, we come over at least one night and we just…”

Duke sighed and leaned on the arm of the couch closest to Veronica - who, realizing that this was probably the most she’d heard Duke speak uninterrupted before, just stared back at her, rapt. “We just… are here? We study and watch movies or do games or just _something_ that doesn’t require us to be whoever we are at school. Some of it still bleeds in, but we try to be ourselves here. Decompress a little.” 

Veronica saw her glancing in her direction, Duke seeming like she was a bit uncomfortable - or at least unfamiliar - with going this long herself. This was also the point where she decided to re-enter the conversation, even though there was a part of her, and not as small as she’d like, that wanted to see Duke squirm. 

“First of all, I’m kind of surprised you all actually study.”

Duke glared back at her only long enough to see Veronica’s teasing smirk before rolling her eyes. “If you met my parents, you’d know I have to or I’d be fucked.”

Veronica chuckled dryly at that. “Okay, second, why do you do that instead of- instead of, I don’t know-“ Heather just stayed quiet with a smirk of her own growing, watching as now Veronica was the one grasping for words. She eventually just let her shoulders slump. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Mmm, do I though?” Heather hummed, head tilting to let her gaze at the ceiling. 

Veronica huffed back at her, eyebrows flattening. “Heather.”

“I don’t know…”

“Fine, fine!” Veronica groaned. Living this close to the razor’s edge had cut through her tolerance for the cat and mouse game that was a staple of life with the Heathers. “Make everyone live in some unholy alchemy of terror, envy, and admiration, all while acting like _colossal_ bitches along the way.”

“With guys, it’s just called being top of the food chain,” Heather noted, deadpan. There was an edge to her voice, but only just so. Though it wasn’t as… playful? That didn’t seem like the right word. Whatever it was, it certainly lacked the bite she’d felt from Heather Duke when she had first joined up. Veronica, still unamused, just harrumphed back at Heather. “But you’re not wrong.”

Veronica arched an eyebrow at Heather. And Heather just made a face back at her. Veronica held the stare for a moment before letting out a grumbling sigh and slumping back into her chair. Part of her wanted to argue - not the least of which because she had some frustration to vent… though also because it felt normal arguing with Duke? In some weird way? But at this point, she was just tired. Not getting a lot of sleep while stressing over her sentencing, being on edge the entire day, and not getting to just switch off and veg out at the end of the day - all of it was starting to really catch up to her. 

Truth was, she had been hoping for something more to work with, to play off of; it was a weird kind of feeling, like dancing with a partner, only for that partner to step away mid-stride. So now, all she felt was this awkward sense of wanting to continue but not knowing just how to bring her partner back into the dance. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bedroom door opening again. McNamara, carrying a glass in each hand and two bottles pressed between her arms and her sides, led the way with a beaming grin. “We’re back!” Behind her, Chandler had a pair of pizza boxes in her hands and, despite her misgivings, Veronica felt her mouth start to water at the scent that was quickly filling the room. By the time Chandler put the boxes on the coffee table, the fact that she had skipped lunch was overwhelming most of her unease. That did return a moment later, however, when Chandler set one of the boxes closer to her and kept the other closer to the couch where she and McNamara settled back down.

“So, Veronica,” Chandler began, alarm bells going off in Veronica’s head as she heard the tone of the other girl. Veronica couldn’t help but gulp when Chandler turned her eyes from the pizza boxes to her own. “You do actually _like_ Hawaiian pizza, right?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Veronica answered while looking back at Chandler, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

“What do you usually do for pizza night?” Chandler pressed on even while Veronica’s frown intensified. Seeing Duke go back to a more shifty attitude did little to ease her concerns. “Two slices? Three?”

“Maybe three,” Veronica allowed warily. Not that she was going to admit that she’d managed more than that before, not with Chandler’s lips curling up and her own unease building. “Why?”

By the time the word left her mouth, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. And Heather’s response only confirmed that, yes, the night’s festivities hadn’t ended just yet. “Well, if you like it so much, then you should have the entire pizza.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Veronica scoffed, rolling her eyes. The silence that met her reply brought them back to level very quickly. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Veronica, do I look like I’m joking?” Heather Chandler asked, her expression as serious as always and one that made Veronica’s stomach flip around - whether in response to the look itself or the dread or what was to come, well, that was hard for her to piece out. 

“There’s no way I can-“ Veronica started before being interrupted. 

“Are you forgetting your deal?” Chandler asked, one eyebrow arched back in her direction. “Because if you’re trying to negotiate-“

“No, no, I’m not.” Veronica shied away from that idea like it had burned her. Not like she had much choice, not when whatever Heather would come up with would be infinitely worse. Still… she glanced at the pizza with an expression that could only be described as ‘tepid.’ This was going to suck. “Okay… whole pizza?” She asked, eyes still locked on the box until she saw a hint of movement on the couch. 

“Whole pizza,” Chandler replied back with a smirk that suggested she herself had just inhaled a canary. 

“Fine,” Veronica gulped, pulling the box close enough for her to grab a slice and take a bite before she could psych herself out any more. _Damn_ , _why is this so good_ , Veronica thought to herself, not realizing she’d hummed happily biting into the slice until she heard laughter from the couch. “What? I’m hungry. I didn’t have lunch, _or_ anything before I got here,” she huffed back, seeing the trio again with different expressions. 

“Well, it is good pizza!” McNamara offered, her smile having grown back to its warm and sunny look from the more timid edition that seemed to appear whenever something with the deal came up. By contrast, Duke just gave her a look that - like most of her interactions with Duke herself - seemed to carry more intention and feeling that she could decipher right away. And Chandler?

“Looks you won’t have any trouble with this after all,” Chandler teased, a scowl coming to Veronica’s face. Granted, the predatory grin on Chandler’s lips was enough to make up for lacking their usual glossy, ruby red, but Veronica wasn’t really in the mood for… well, whatever that tone was implying. 

“Yeah?” Veronica huffed at Chandler while chewing on her first slice. Maybe if she paced herself she’d be able to finish more of the pizza. “And what does that mean?”

Chandler smiled again, showing teeth without much warmth or mirth. “Moaning through bites is _classic_ fat girl.” Veronica’s scowl deepened and she tore off the last of the slice in half in frustration. A warmer laugh followed, only furthering Veronica’s confusion. 

“Oh relax, you pillowcase. It _is_ good pizza,” Chandler continued with a teasing tone. She grabbed a slice of the pepperoni pizza and took a bite, holding the box open for Duke and McNamara. 

“It’s alright,” Duke allowed, setting her slice on a small stack of napkins she’d appropriated, along with a separate collection of them on one of her thighs. Of course, Veronica thought that admitting that she found it even somewhat appealing was a big step for Duke… even if she was picking off pepperoni slices to eat one at a time instead of taking the slice as a whole.

By sharp contrast, McNamara already had a sizable chunk missing from her first slice. And, once again, Veronica found herself comforted by the warm grin sent in her direction when Mac noticed she was looking at her. “How’s your pizza, Veronica?”

“It’s _delicious_ , Heather, thank you for asking,” Veronica replied sweetly, deliberately not making eye contact with Chandler. And to be fair, it _was_ ; Veronica hadn’t been lying when she said it was a favorite of hers. Granted, she hadn’t expected to have to eat an entire one, but it was just one night - she could manage this, and then maybe they’d get collectively bored of this punishment. Chandler seemed to really be the only one with her heart in it anyway. 

“So… what do we do now?” Veronica asked, halfway into her second slice. She’d also watched Duke pick off all pepperoni from her slice, eat them and was now moving onto peeling off hunks of the cheese. Which… well it was _odd_ but still an improvement over the alternative. 

“Probably a movie,” Duke replied, using a napkin to wipe the grease off her fingers from her latest picking. “We did Sixteen Candles last week.”

“It was so cute!” McNamara squealed happily before taking another bite of pizza. 

“I guess,” Duke rolled her eyes, though Veronica could see a ghost of a smile on her lips. Duke’s face went slack when she noticed Veronica looking at her, and that turned into a scowl when Veronica smirked back. “What do we have for this week?”

McNamara chomped on the rest of her slice with her teeth, holding it in place as she pulled up her bag onto her lap. Out of said bag, she pulled a video rental and handed it to Chandler… and then another. And another! _What the hell?_ Veronica thought, chewing down to the crust as she watched a fourth and then a final rental box appear in McNamara’s hand before she finally put her bag down. 

“How did you fit all of those in your bag?” Veronica asked, not catching onto why Duke was snickering for a moment… “Oh. Nevermind,” she muttered as Duke burst into laughter.

“Always one for dick jokes,” Chandler observed, unamused.

“Oh!” McNamara’s head turned to glare over at Duke. “That’s not very nice.”

“I didn’t even make the joke!” Duke protested. “How am I being punished for a joke I didn’t even say!”

Chandler, cycling through the tapes with one hand and her other holding her slice of pizza level near her mouth, just replied like she was dismissing a weather report. “You were thinking it too loudly.”

“Uh.” All three of the Heathers turned their attention back to Veronica. She had paused while holding her third slice of pizza and had the look of a wide-eyed deer in headlights. “Sorry. I was just going to say… you know, uh, what movies are there?”

McNamara swallowed the bite of pizza she’d been working on when Veronica had asked her question. 

“So, I picked up a few options.”

“Clearly!” Veronica snickered around a bite. When she saw McNamara falter for a moment at her comment, she quickly added, “What was your haul, Heather?”

McNamara’s enthusiasm quickly returned at Veronica’s coaxing. “Well! I got the Breakfast Club, Can’t Buy Me Love, Hairspray, Blind Date, and A Fish Called Wanda. What?” She asked when Chandler gave her a look that seemed equally confused as it was disbelieving. 

“What the _fuck_ is A Fish Called Wanda?” Chandler asked, deadpan. 

McNamara shrugged. “I don’t know, it was half price this week.” 

“It’s so good!” Both Chandler and McNamara looked over at Veronica’s excited cry and, less noticeably at first, Duke’s snickering.

The reason behind both her sudden outburst and Duke’s amusement was that Veronica had tried to make up for lost time with her pizza. She’d realized after the second slice and a few sips from her bottle that her ‘take it slow’ strategy was not going to be a viable one. And so, when Heather had started listing off the movies and Heather wondered what A Fish Called Wanda was, Veronica had her mouth full of what was essentially the entire third slice. The eager tapping on her thigh and pained expression while she chewed had been visible only to Heather, who by now had descended into a barely muffled fit of giggles at Veronica’s expense. 

_Wait, did I just use the Heather thing in my head-_ Veronica shook her head quickly to head off what that meant, for now at least. _Highly questionable bet first, existential confusion later._ She got a quick drink of root beer to try and clear her throat, her outcry a moment early sounding more than a bit raspy from having inhaled hot cheese and pepperoni. “It’s a heist movie and it’s really, _really_ funny,” she insisted, again swallowing to try and clear up her throat a bit more. “Jamie Lee Curtis is great in it!”

“A heist movie.” Chandler repeated, deadpan and staring at Veronica with her starting to feel her face heat up under the Demon Queen’s eyes. Thankfully, McNamara’s response was more welcoming. 

“Heist movies are so good! And I _love_ Jamie Lee Curtis!”

Chandler frowned at McNamara. “A… heist movie,” she repeated, still sounding bewildered to Veronica. 

Now, McNamara was frowning back at Chandler. “What’s wrong with heist movies?” 

“Oh, no, they’re fine,” Chandler insisted, though with her hesitation just taking a little too long. 

“That was as convincing as your orgasm with Ram last week,” Duke snarked, catching Veronica mid-sip and leaving her spluttering through root beer. 

“Like your blowjob performance is going to win an Oscar,” Chandler shot back. 

Duke rolled her eyes and sighed. “Let’s return to, you know, the actual topic of movies instead of sucking subpar dicks.” Thankfully for Veronica, she had paused before taking another sip and thus was spared another round of coughing.

“So what’s wrong with heist movies?” McNamara asked again, a more pointed look on her face than Veronica could remember seeing. And, even more surprising, when she looked over to see Chandler - lord of all she sees, Demon Queen of Westerburg High, and the mythic bitch herself - and she seemed... actually nervous?

“Well,” Chandler began while lacking all of her usual self-confidence, the voice that Veronica had noted as having a quality not unlike that of a 1940s movie star absolutely nowhere to be found. _Is this really happening?_ Veronica considered with wide eyes, disbelieving everything they were taking in.

She hadn’t exactly believed Duke when she had said that they were more themselves here - how could she, when even the hint she’d gotten over the weekend was only a slightly less polished variety of Heather, Heather, and Heather? But now, watching as Chandler hemmed and hawed, Veronica considered the idea that, _holy shit, Heather Chandler might actually be human._

Just when Veronica had the first twinge of wanting to step in - and the idea that she might need to on behalf of Chandler enough to distract her from realizing she was grabbing yet another slice of pizza - Chandler let out a big, heavy sigh of, what Veronica learned about two seconds later, resignation. 

“There’s too much going on in them,” Chandler groused, pressing herself back into the couch. Her sigh grew closer to a groan. “It’s always some distraction that’s part of _this_ fucking plan or _that_ damn scheme. Following along with them is so annoying.” “But that’s the _point_ ,” Duke protested, with Veronica - cheeks full of pizza - nodding along next to her. “Heist movies are about outwitting people who are usually richer, better armed, and meaner than you.”

"You just described us,” Chandler deadpanned, prompting Duke to pause and Veronica to snort through the better part of a full slice of pizza.

“Well that’s- it’s not,” Duke started after a moment’s pause, looking to McNamara for assistance. “Heather, you like heist movies, help me explain to Heather why they’re good.” Much to Veronica’s amusement, McNamara just shrugged back. 

“If Heather doesn’t want to see it, we can go with another choice.”

“Ughhhh.” Duke’s head flopped back with her groan, hitting the top of the couch with a soft _thump_.

Veronica glanced back to Chandler, seeing the other girl’s hesitation still. “Maybe we can see it next week,” Heather offered. She blinked at what she had to figure was some kind of conciliatory gesture, which- Chandler? Giving ground on _anything_ ? It was hard to grasp that _this_ was the same girl who had seemed ready to torch her to the soles of her shoes almost 48 hours previous. 

Veronica swallowed the last of the pizza she had been working on, only for her to realize just how much pizza she’d eaten so far. Which, yes, was the plan, but that last gulp seemed to settle in her stomach like cement. “Guh.”

The muffled groan brought the attention of the other three girls back to her, though Chandler’s smirk stood out. The uncertainty she’d had when discussing movies evaporated quickly, with the head Heather leaning forward a little in her seat. “Oh, that’s right, you were supposed to be stuffing yourself. How’s that going, Veronica?”

“Fine,” Veronica grumbled, getting a drink of root beer. _Next time something that’s not so fizzy_ , she thought to herself, knowing that was part of why she felt so packed.

The other was that without really noticing, she’d eaten four slices in the span of… well, not very long, now that she considered it. Normally, her usual three would take half an hour and that was with pacing herself a bit more. Which, Heather Chandler picked up on when she lifted up the lid of Veronica’s pizza box. “Ooh, looks like someone was hungry.”

“You say that like I have a choice,” Veronica huffed back and her expression only soured further when Chandler’s smirk gained a few more watts to become a shit-eating grin. 

“Are you feeling alright?” McNamara asked, scooting a little closer on the couch. With both Duke and Chandler between her and Veronica, it didn’t quite have the same effect, but Veronica still appreciated it just the same. 

“Little - _mff -_ full,” Veronica replied with a bit of pink rising to her face. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle a burp was definitely the better option there, but judging from Chandler’s continued amusement and Duke’s raised eyebrow, it hadn’t don’t much to hide how she was feeling.

“But with only half the box finished!” Chandler hummed, her voice sweet enough to make Veronica’s teeth hurt. “Hope you’ve got some more room, Ronnie.”

“Again, like I have a choice,” Veronica grumbled even as she reached for the next slice. How had she even eaten that much so fast? _Probably wanting to get this over with,_ part of her mused, sounding bitter even in the confines of her own skull. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what felt worse at the moment, the very sudden realization that she’d downed her normal amount of pizza in a third of the time or that she still had half a pie left. 

Another aspect of that assessment came when she leaned forward to reach her next slice of pizza, namely that of her skirt. While outfits designed to wow and awe the collective student consciousness of Westerburg High usually had comfort placed at a lower priority than other features, they usually weren’t _un_ comfortable. So the feeling of her skirt pinching a bit around her stomach made her hitch for a moment, just long enough to grab her next slice and then retreat to leaning back in her chair. 

Now that she had noticed just how much she had eaten, Veronica was definitely struggling with cramming even more pizza in her stomach. Some of it was in her head, she figured, that thinking it - sort of like how when you think about your breathing, it takes a little bit for it to go back to being an unconscious action - had made it impossible to just… go on autopilot. But, as she swallowed another bite and had to lean back a little further with how her stomach gurgled in protest, more than a little of her difficulty was based around having eaten half a fucking pizza already. 

_Not going to get any easier,_ Veronica thought to herself, again as bitter as the coffee she drank every morning to steel herself for each day. Not that she really wanted to think about anything else to eat or drink, but it was hard not to have it on the brain. Where she’d tried to enjoy each slice at least a little before, she grabbed her fifth slice and did her best to cram it down her throat before her body realized what was happening. 

Though she did manage to do that, it was hard to call it much of a success. Veronica grabbed at the next slice without much enthusiasm but with an audible grunt when her stomach - which was feeling increasingly tight and heavy - pushed against her waistband. And apparently, that discomfort was showing on her face by the time she had grabbed her sixth slice. 

“You’re not going to puke, right? We don’t need two of us doing that,” Chandler asked with a flat tone, somewhere between joking and not with Veronica having a hard time figuring out the ratio. Duke’s sizzling glare did little to deter Chandler or comfort Veronica, leaving McNamara to fill the void.

“Are you okay? You look really uncomfortable.”

Veronica shot McNamara a glare, but softened it almost immediately. _How is it that she manages to look like a wet kitten?_ she grumbled internally. Heather McNamara might be the nicest of the triumvirate that ruled the school, but that was like picking the bear least likely to eat you when you get lost in the woods. _Ugh, don’t think about eating_ , Veronica thought, her stomach gurgling loudly in protest. 

“Maybe she should stop,” Duke considered, eyebrows knitting as she looked over Veronica, eyes glancing down with a hint of what Veronica maybe thought could actually be some concern? “She kind of _does_ look like she’s going to puke.”

Veronica took a slow breath, one hand pressed to her stomach and maybe a little perturbed by how tight it felt through her clothes. “If I stop, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat any more.”

“Then it’s time for some re-evaluation,” Chandler suggested, prompting another tired groan from Veronica. 

“Ugh, no. Don’t make me stand up right now.”

Chandler raised a well-manicured eyebrow at Veronica. “I didn’t think you were that eager to strip again, Ronnie. But no, I’m not talking about that, I mean how we get you to finish that pizza.”

Veronica stared back at Chandler like she’d grown a second head, and one full of even worse ideas than the first. “You’re joking, _mmf_ , right?”

Chandler, much to Veronica’s dismay, just looked back at her blankly. “How often do I joke, Veronica?”

 _God, I’m so fucked,_ Veronica thought as she groaned aloud. “Seriously though,” she huffed, hand still against her stomach to try and relieve the pressure from her skirt. “I can’t-“

“You said,” Chandler interrupted with a raised finger while dread somehow crept into Veronica’s stomach. “That if you _stopped_ , you wouldn’t be able to finish. Which means you’re not going to stop.”

“Well, maybe we could help her,” McNamara suggested, drawing a scowl from Chandler. 

“The whole point of this is she eats it all herself. If we help her, that defeats the purpose.”

McNamara frowned, with her response making Veronica’s momentary relief fall flat. “I’m not saying we eat some for her. But we can help her eat more, right?”

Chandler’s eyebrows perked back up, McNamara grinning in a way that looked far too warm for how much it didn’t help Veronica feel any better. “Go on…”

“First, Veronica - come next to me,” Heather continued after the go-ahead from Chandler. She gestured for Veronica to take the far end of the couch, where McNamara was currently. On the end closest to Veronica, Duke was already rolling her eyes but also sliding her feet to the floor. Veronica, however, just pouted back at McNamara. 

“I really don’t want to move.”

“Oh come on,” Duke huffed, holding out her hands to Veronica. “Don’t be a-“

“Pillowcase?” Chandler suggested with a saccharine brightness that made Duke roll her eyes. 

“I was going to say ‘baby’ but you know, sure. Now,” she said, turning her attention back to Veronica. Duke curled her hands and then dropped them open again, staring back at the stuffed girl. “Hands.”

Veronica’s pout deepened but relented when Duke glared down at her. She inched forward in her chair, still using one hand to try and steady her stomach even as it’s gurgling protests suggested she wasn’t doing much good. Her other hand reached out while she gave Duke an exasperated - and _probably a bit pathetic_ , she figured - look. Though, what Veronica thought might have been a flash of sympathy flashed through Duke’s face before it went blank again. _Who the fuck knows, just need to get up,_ Veronica thought. 

Duke grasped hold of Veronica’s hand and helped her come to her feet, slowly though it was. For her part, Veronica tried not to pant or otherwise breathe too heavily, feeling more than a little skittish about feeling out of breath. _I do have half a pizza in my gut_ , she countered. 

Tottering to her feet, Veronica let out a slow breath. That stopped sharply when she felt her stomach again press against her skirt. Almost instantly she tried to suck in, but being in the unfortunate position of her stomach almost eye level with Heather Chandler, that did not quite go as well as hoped. 

“Not bad for a start,” Heather hummed. Veronica would have growled at her if that didn’t require her to release her already-straining abs from their obligations. She did catch Duke rolling her eyes as she led her to the other end of the couch, but otherwise focused mostly on not freaking out. Or at least doing so as quietly as she could. No need to give Chandler any more satisfaction, even if Veronica still had her hand pressed to her stomach to keep it from shifting around suddenly. 

“You can sit here, Veronica,” McNamara patted the couch next to her, where she could use the end to brace herself. Or, as she did a moment later, just about falling into the space between McNamara and the end of the white couch with a very undignified groan. 

“Okay, that doesn’t sound good at all.” Veronica looked back up to see Duke staring down at her. Though to her surprise, Duke had visible concern on her face rather than disdain or even the more common blank expression that she had mastered. “So what’s your plan to make sure she doesn’t puke? Or like, explode?”

Ah, there she was. “Tactful as _\- mmff -_ ever.”

Duke crossed her arms in response. “Excuse me for trying to spare you the smell of vomit in your nostrils.”

Veronica gulped when her stomach churned at the evocative suggestion. “Not helping.”

“First,” McNamara interrupted, her hand already against Veronica’s middle. Before she realized what was happening - let alone how Heather had gotten her hand there without her realizing - McNamara’s nimble fingers had undone one of the buttons of her blouse; which, in normal circumstances, Veronica probably would have swatted at her hand but the dramatic _relief_ that came with just that small release stunned her into silence. And maybe the feeling of fingertips brushing her firm - from food, of course - stomach. _Focus,_ she thought, trying to arrest this train of thought before it took her to somewhere… somewhere she couldn’t quite grasp just yet. 

“First,” McNamara repeated, clearing her throat before continuing further. “We need to get you comfortable. Even if this _is_ punishment, you’ll be able to eat more if you don’t feel like you’re being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste.” 

Veronica thought she caught McNamara shooting a pointed glanced towards Chandler, but it was hard to tell just what it meant. Especially as McNamara slipped another button free and Veronica groaned softly. Still, Veronica managed to find her voice when a third button was undone. 

“Um?” She started, only for the flush she felt on her face reach a fever pitch when McNamara pressed her hand to Veronica’s stomach. “Heather?” She squeaked out at a higher pitch than she expected. 

“You ate too fast, silly,” McNamara hummed back, starting to rub in slow circles a little below Veronica’s ribs - right where the pressure had built to its worst, she realized. “You’ve got all this air in your stomach, on top of not pacing yourself to let you adjust. And you said you usually had three slices, right?”

“Yes,” Veronica started, covering her mouth to keep a soft gurgle coming up her throat. Like she needed to feel even _more_ embarrassed right now, not when she felt Chandler’s amused smirk from the other end of the couch. 

“Holding it in isn’t going to help either!” McNamara chided, giving Veronica’s bloated belly a gentle poke. Only Veronica’s hand, still over her lips, kept the resulting burp from hitting the darkened room unhindered. And from the snickering from Chandler - let alone the burning sensation she felt on her cheeks prompted by that - it was clear that hadn’t worked as well as she hoped. McNamara though just hummed again, scooting over so her hip bumped against Veronica’s while her hand continued its ministrations. 

“Uh-uhm,” Veronica stammered, finding herself in the rare position of being abandoned by the precious words that were so often her shield, sword, and security blanket. Not feeling any more traitorous rumblings from her stomach, she pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Heather, I- what are-“

Only have to Heather McNamara’s finger press against her lips. _That_ silenced her for… well, long enough that she wasn’t sure how long it had been, just that the heat in her face hadn’t faded. “Shush. Do you trust me?”

Oh _lord_ , that was a question that could fill an entire diary on its own when extended to the Heathers as a trio. But… faced with few alternatives and having to admit that, to her embarrassment, dismay, and a growing pile of feelings that could really only be categorized as ‘confusing’ at this particular moment, this _was_ helping her feel less like she was going to barf… Veronica nodded back slowly. 

“Good,” Heather hummed again, only then removing her finger in a way that had to be faster and less gentle - less deliberate - than it actually happened… right? Veronica’s disorientation only furthered when McNamara’s hand pulled away from her stomach, to the point that when she finally noticed her absence, another slice of pizza was right under her nose. 

Maybe that ‘time is relative’ bullshit her science teacher had explained (while trying to seem cool when explaining why the last five minutes of every school day felt like hell itself being raked across her skin, which was _not_ the time to try and drop a ‘Fun Fact’) actually was real. 

_Digress later,_ Veronica chided herself, shaken from her own thoughts by the warm scent of pepperoni. “Pepperoni?” She asked, looking up from the melted cheese in front of her to find brown eyes looking back at her. 

“I thought you could use a bit of variety!” McNamara grinned back at her. And, despite her stomach starting to churn in protest, Veronica sighed and glanced back down to the slice in front of her. She could see Chandler’s smirk, just past McNamara’s much more inviting grin, and resigned herself.

“Okay,” Veronica sighed, with McNamara already bringing the slice up to her lips. She managed to get one more objection in though. “But if I pop it’s your fault.”

Heather hummed back at her, surprising Veronica with a pat on the stomach from her free hand. “Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t.”

Somehow, that only made Veronica more concerned about what was to come… even as she felt something stir in her belly that wasn’t borne out of dread or an overabundance of cheese and dough. She gulped when she looked back into McNamara’s eyes, deep pools of brown in the soft lights around Chandler’s room, even as the slice came up to her lips a moment later. 

“I’ll take care of you, Veronica,” Heather hummed again, close enough that her breath brushed against Veronica’s cheek and made her pulse quicken.. Her voice was warm and inviting in all the ways that Chandler’s had been sickly and saccharine - and with her other hand back against her tender stomach, the warmth blooming in her chest was only a breath of a surprise… and certainly no more so than when her lips parted for the slice that Heather held in her hand.

When her… command? request? came, whatever it was, Veronica knew before the words left Heather’s lips that she was in deep, _so_ deep. And with all the possibilities of what _that_ meant filling her head and making her breath hitch, it was impossible to do anything but fall. 

“Now: eat up.”

So she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to get in Veronica's mindset for that last stretch, listen to CCR's version of I Put a Spell On You. And imagine you're the "you" in that song.
> 
> also, if you want to know what hell was, look up how long it took movies to come out on VHS back in 1989, either for imagining what that experience was like or in trying to find information about that for movies that weren't Batman.


	5. Pizza and Fucking Dimples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: stuffing 
> 
> Veronica reflects on just how deep in the shit she is and tries to finish her first challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas eve! look at that, it only took me almost four months to get this out instead of six! 
> 
> self-dragging aside, life remains shitty, which is thematically appropriate for 2020 at least. this chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to split it from where this one ends in the interest of things both being a bit easier to read and also having something posted sooner rather than later. I'm hoping to be writing for the rest of this year and into the next, so with luck chapter six will be up in January.
> 
> however you're getting through this season - whatever holidays or means of coping or both - I hope that it's a good end to what has been one fucking terrible year. I know 2021 may not be all that different from 2020 at the start (and lord, if we keep up the pace of the last few years, it'll just be one more step down) - but I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for it not being a complete trash fire. as always, hope you enjoy the chapter, feel free to leave comments below (because I do need applause to live), and thank you for reading.
> 
> also! if you are interested in more of my work (including two wg-based stories and more to come in 2021), you can find me here: https://www.deviantart.com/venusderubens

**_September 26th, 1989_ **

**_Dear Diary,_ **

**_I… am so fucked._ **

Veronica wished she could say it was a blur; that she didn’t remember what happened, lost in a haze of gentle touches and mounting pressure; that soft lights and 1960s movie antics and so,  _ so  _ much pizza kept her from really understanding what was happening. 

But she did. She remembered all of it. When she closed her eyes, she saw it plastered across her eyelids. She could feel McNamara’s fingers on her stomach and sides and knee. She could almost taste the pizza. 

And it was… really confusing. 

Uncomfortable… often. And in multiple ways. Stressful, majorly. But she found herself tempted into one more bite, either by Heather McNamara’s hums and encouragement and massaging hands or from Heather Chandler’s reminders that any kind of replacement would be just as bad or worse. And it was really,  _ really _ hard to not feel herself pulled toward McNamara, even as she had to lean back against the couch to try and make room for her bloating belly, or adjust her clothes to let even more skin show in hopes of easing the pressure. 

For all her thoughts of being completely stuffed, Veronica handled the sixth slice without feeling quite as doomed. Her stomach protested and her breathing would get a little shallow at moments. Whenever she felt like she was done, that the pressure was too much, Heather’s encouragement always did just what she needed to back away from bailing. Before she knew it, she was chewing the last bit of crust. 

The momentary feeling of triumph - along with a part of her pointing out how  _ weird _ that feeling was - rose up and filled in all the gaps that she’d been trying to ignore. Her smoldering coals of guilt about Martha and the resolve to do anything to fix it that rushed in after, so quick that she almost missed how much those coals burned. Almost. 

Close behind that was the frustration that Veronica could feel under her skin. And ‘under’ was definitely the right word; like a current of slurry, with little spikes and edges that she could feel grating against her bones and skin, never quite enough to break the surface. But, just as unrelenting, it never let her forget just how she had gotten here. 

And being  _ here _ … was something she hadn’t quite figured out just yet. She missed Martha. And she really couldn’t say she was enjoying this -  _ though can’t quite rule some things out _ , she realized with a notable flush of heat going up her neck - or that she didn’t have major reservations. But there was something here: something about Mac’s hands on her stomach as it bloated out with each bite; or Duke’s furtive glances from the chair that began as the movie started up and only continued. And then there was Chandler… even when she wasn’t watching, Veronica could feel her presence dominating the whole of the night. She wasn’t the one who had fed her the last two slices or pressed her fingers into her belly or had her stomach out and bare. But this entire clusterfuck - feelings, food, or punishment - was because of Heather goddamn Chandler. 

_ Fuck.  _

That was perhaps the most fucked up part of all of this: there was something tugging at her, making her feel maybe even the smallest bit  _ happy _ being part of these three. Veronica was seeing sides of all of them that  _ nobody  _ else did and it made her feel… well, good. 

_ How fucked up am I for  _ **_this_ ** _ to make me feel like I’m part of the Heathers _ , Veronica thought. Which, yeah, that probably spoke to how desperate she was to feel safe and wanted and maybe a little popular. Again, a guilty throb sprang up in her chest when she wondered what that said about Martha.  _ Doing a movie night with her this week, no matter what,  _ she huffed, wincing when she inhaled a bit too sharply. 

“Are you feeling alright, Veronica?” Heather McNamara asked, her hand still on Veronica’s belly and with a concerned look on her face. And goddammit all, Veronica’s brain felt like mush. Still, she managed to fix a look on McNamara, one that might normally carry a bit of fire in it. But right now, it was just weary and she didn’t need a mirror to know that with certainty. 

“Awww.” Already feeling sluggish, Veronica wasn’t really prepared for McNamara to give her a push back into the corner of the couch, gentle though it was, and then scoot in closer against her. As if she weren’t having enough trouble keeping her brain on track, being pressed hip to ribs against Heather McNamara was  _ not _ helping. And Heather’s hand patting her on the stomach before easing down her skirt’s zipper - all while taking care to put herself between Veronica and Chandler - well…

Veronica let out a heavy exhale, feeling her cheeks blush hot at how  _ good _ it felt to finally have the pressure off her belly. 

“Is that any better?” Heather hummed, warm and sweet in Veronica’s ear, which succeeded in bringing a gulp from her lips. 

“Ah, yes?” Veronica croaked back. Heather’s furrowed eyebrows looking back at her promoted Veronica to continue, even if the image also made her heart thump awkwardly against her ribs.  _ What the hell is going on,  _ the thought echoed in her head, the deepening frown only further bringing out Heather’s dimples.  _ Fucking dimples?! _

Again, she realized that she’d let the silence stretch for a moment too long. “Um, I’m- I mean, I still- I’m really full, but I feel, uh, a bit better,” she finally managed to choke out. Just over McNamara’s shoulder, she could see Duke’s deadpan expression and what had to be a sarcastic thumbs up in her direction.

Thankfully, McNamara seemed pleased with that, or at least enough that Veronica couldn’t tell. “Good! Because we’ve still got two slices left. And it’s going to be even worse if it gets cold.”

Veronica frowned at her, tilting her head. “But cold pizza is good.”

McNamara’s nose wrinkled at that and her eyebrows furrowed again. “Ew, no.” 

“Shhhhh,” Chandler hushed them, keeping her eyes on the movie.  _ For being so blase about the whole choice, she seems to be getting into the movie at least, _ Veronica grumbled silently.

“It’s better than me just exploding from being so full of pizza,” Veronica whined softly. McNamara sighed and rolled her eyes, but smiled back at Veronica.

“Fine… we’ll go slowly. But no complaining when it gets cold.” Veronica’s bottle of root beer was passed back over to her by McNamara. “And drink up. I’m going to get you a fresh one before you start on those last two slices because this one’s gonna go flat.”

Veronica groaned a little but conceded with a sip. “Fine, but you’re rolling me home later.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a twitch from Chandler but McNamara’s response kept her focus.

“Oh no, you can stay here,” she hummed softly, taking care to keep her voice down after Chandler’s admonishment. Heather’s hand had returned to Veronica’s stomach, and the gentle circles she was rubbing there were taking up a lot of Veronica’s brain power. “Do you want me to get that second bottle now?”

“Second-“ Veronica glanced at her bottle, already coming up to her lips -  _ somehow, because she didn’t quite remember drinking this much of it -  _ and finding it empty when she tried to take a sip. “Oh. Uh-“

“I’ll get it,” Duke sighed, pushing herself up out of the chair and on her way towards the door by the time Veronica registered her moving.  _ Huh _ , Veronica blinked, seeing Duke’s eyes flicker back to her momentarily before the girl in green was through the bedroom door. 

Chandler scoffed, still looking towards the movie. “Wonder what’s got her panties in a twist.”  _ Apparently I’m not the only one who thought that was odd _ , Veronica thought. 

“Maybe she wasn’t thrilled with the movie,” McNamara suggested back, surprising Veronica with the teasing lilt in her voice. 

“Ugh,” Chandler groaned, her head flopping back against the couch. Veronica didn’t miss McNamara’s quiet, shuddering laughter at that and neither did Chandler. “Look, I get it. Hairspray… boring.”

“I like it!”

“You like everything, Heather,” Chandler glared back at her, though without much heat that Veronica could tell. Blue eyes caught hers for a moment before looking away sharply. “Okay, that’s not true, but still.”

Veronica heard McNamara hum, her attention pulled to Chandler and away from her for the first time since she had moved to the couch. “It’s not too late for us to start something else. Especially if we’re going to call out tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Veronica blinked, seeing both Heathers turn their attention back to her. “We’re going to call out tomorrow?”

Chandler arched an eyebrow at Veronica. “Would you rather go to school all bloated from your pizza binge?”

Veronica’s mouth, open and already to respond, shut with a click of her teeth as she considered. “Well… no, not really,” she admitted after a moment of hesitation. She could already tell this was going to feel like the worst period bloat she’d ever had and she wasn’t even finished yet. Still, she  _ did _ want to finish this year strong - no need to ruin her chance of getting the hell away from this shithole of a town. 

She turned to see McNamara looking at her expectantly, leading Veronica to roll her eyes and sigh. “Fine… so long as it’s not a regular thing. Some of us are trying to graduate on the honor roll.”

“Nerd,” Chandler grumbled with a roll of her eyes. 

“Which nerd are we talking about?” Duke asked, entering the room with a bottle and promptly passing it to Veronica as she passed her. Veronica had to scramble a little at the unexpected arrival, but was soon holding the cool, wet glass against her cheek. 

“Veronica,” McNamara hummed cheerfully, glancing over at the aforementioned brunette. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit toasty,” Veronica replied, eyes closed in bliss. Between her overstuffed stomach, the very weird fluttery feelings in her chest from McNamara’s very, erm, touch-friendly attitude, and the room warming up a fair bit since they’d all settled in, the cold bottle was a nice respite. 

“Ink for brains wants to go to school tomorrow,” Chandler cut in, seemingly towards Duke but drawing a weary sigh from Veronica.

Duke paused before sitting back down in her chair, tilting her head at Veronica and shooting her a frown. “You’re not going to want to go to school tomorrow, trust me.”

Veronica frowned at that, curiosity poking at her pizza-addled brain, but Chandler prevented her from following that thread at the moment. “There, you’ve been outvoted.”

“Wait, that was a vote?” Veronica asked, feeling even more puzzled than before. “Wait, you all take  _ votes _ ?”

“Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin the natural hierarchy of predator and prey at Westerburg,” Duke replied, her tone even and her eyes already back into her book. 

“I…”  _ What the fuck are the Heathers? This ironfisted triumvirate that takes votes?? Am I having a stroke??? _

“Veronica?” Heather McNamara’s hand waving in front of her face interrupted Veronica’s brewing existential crisis. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Veronica shook her head, first to clear it and then more emphatically. “I… I don’t understand,” she started, trying to wrap her head around what she’d seen tonight and square it with how the Heathers were at school, at the mall, how they had always been as long as she could remember. “How is- you all just-“ Veronica shook her head again, so hard she saw spots when she opened her eyes again. “ _ What??”  _

Duke perked up at Veronica’s mounting distress, shifting in her chair from the lounging posture she had adopted to instead bring her legs crossed in front of her. Next to her, McNamara frowned and leaned in closer to Veronica. The latter in particular not helping her swimming head, for reasons that felt just out of Veronica’s grasp. Instead, she shook her head hard enough for her hair to hit against her face and found it more than a little fluffed up in the corner of her eye by the time she stopped.

“Okay,” Veronica muttered, the roller coaster of twists and turns from the last few days finally catching up to her and hard, at least if the rushing sound of her own pulse in her ears meant anything. “Just… gonna finish the pizza,” she continued, not feeling at all confident about plowing on, but right now she was ready to cling to just about anything that felt  _ normal _ . 

And if that required her wallowing in her punishment from the Heathers, so be it. She wasn’t sure what it said that a bizarre punishment felt more normal than her having to upend foundational beliefs about the basic nature of Westerburg, the Heathers, or her role therein, but fuck it. Realizing that she’d been met with silence, she found the other three girls looking at her in varied states of confusion (all three), concern (McNamara and Duke), curiosity (Chandler and Duke), and amusement (all Chander). She frowned back, her eyes glancing between the three. “What?”

“You heard her,” Chandler replied, nudging McNamara in the side. “She wants to finish up? Let’s help her along.”

“Well,” McNamara started, glancing to Duke, with Veronica able to see her face back in that schooled blankness. Apparently finding no allies in sight, McNamara sighed. “Alright. But if you start to feel sick or really uncomfortable, say something,” she pouted, giving Veronica a prod in her bloated belly on each of the last two words. 

“Ugh, easy with the poking,” Veronica grunted, though not swatting away McNamara’s hand. Mostly because by the time she felt she had the energy - or focus - to try, McNamara’s hand was already caressing her stomach. McNamara’s physical attitude tonight was not helping matters - at all. In fact, the return of Heather’s hand to her middle was enough to bring a shiver out of her, one that she tried to ignore by downing a big gulp of root beer. 

The fact was that everything about this night was  _ not at all _ what Veronica thought would happen. None of what had developed over the last three days was, if she was being honest with herself, and she was still trying to catch up with it all. McNamara finally concurring with her request and bringing up the next slice at least gave her something else to focus on, even with her brain still ticking away at how  _ insane  _ she felt. 

For example: the smell of pizza in front of her nose with 3/4s of a whole pie in her stomach probably should have been nauseating, or at the very least enough for her to turn away. Part of her brain noted that and plastered it on the inside of her skull, that she had already eaten far too much pizza and it was time to stop, thank you very much.  _ This is so fucked up,  _ she thought to herself, staring at the pizza for a moment.  **_I_ ** _ am so fucked up _ , the thought echoed, gaining more volume. 

For all her misgivings, more than anything Veronica felt unmoored; rudderless in a whirlpool of sensations and feelings and confusion, to the point where any sort of anchor felt not only inviting but damn near necessary. So, after a slow exhale, she opened her mouth back up and was quickly rewarded with McNamara feeding her more of the food that currently stuffed her stomach. And dammit, despite cooling off a bit, it was still really, really good. McNamara had switched back to her pineapple and ham pizza and while yes, she wasn’t feeling that great, it was still one of her favorites - and that was what she was going to focus on to get through that whirlpool. 

Of course, even with her determined to avoid actually processing the ever-growing collection of odd thoughts and feelings that had built up since the first day of senior year, there was only so much she could do to avoid audibly struggling. 

“Umnf,” Veronica groaned, her mouth full after taking as big a bite as she could manage. She chewed as quickly as she could with an already sore jaw, not trusting time as an ally and drawing some bitter satisfaction when her belly gurgled loudly in protest when she swallowed.  _ Look, it’s suffer a bit more now _ , she told… herself? her stomach? some sense of guilt? She wasn’t really sure at this point and honestly didn’t care at the moment _. Suffer now or suffer later, so let’s just get this over with.  _

As soon as she had room in her mouth for more, Veronica nodded to McNamara to continue. For her efforts, Veronica was rewarded with the rest of the slice, her seventh and second to last. Her cheeks and jaw hurt from having to chew through so much dough and cheese, not to mention the extra work needed for the crust. 

Now, all that remained was the last slice of this ill-conceived bargain that she’d made with the Demon Queen herself, Heather Chandler. Who also took votes and listened to the other two and had movie nights and- Veronica shook her head, not wanting to get pulled back into the rabbit hole again, not with the finish line in sight. Unfortunately, the finish line was one final slice of pizza - pineapple and ham, her original choice of poison for the evening even though she hadn’t known it at the time. And there it was, staring back at her from McNamara’s hand. 

“Do you want any of your root beer before-?” McNamara asked, with Veronica’s head shaking vigorously enough to interrupt her. 

“Wanna finish this first,” Veronica said, her breathing a touch shallow for her preference but not having a lot of options given how stuffed she felt. That same feeling was exactly why she was going to get this last piece down, before anything else - shame, discomfort, nausea - could overtake her in the delay. Veronica pushed herself up as straight as she could manage, the change in posture again pushing her stomach out against her button down.  _ Fuck it _ , she thought to herself, taking the slice of pizza from Heather and staring at it for only a moment longer. 

Veronica bit into the last slice and had to fight back a groan. Just that there was more food in her mouth was enough to sour the taste of it, but she shoved that thought aside. Veronica Sawyer was many things: stubborn, impulsive at times, a bit of a nerd, and maybe full of bad ideas; but she was not, under any means, a quitter. And so, she chomped down on her second bite and tried to ignore the mounting desire to spit everything in her mouth into Heather Chandler’s stupid carpet and be done with it all.

Whenever that thought popped back up, she took another bite, cramming more pizza into her mouth even while swallowing little bits and pieces as she went. That pace grew too slow for her, especially while her stomach was starting to gurgle again in protest. At half a slice left and still chewing away, a prickling fear began creeping up her spine, namely that of hitting a wall and not being able to continue. And while the Heathers may not be quite as evil as she suspected, she wasn’t ready to consider them merciful just yet. 

Veronica steeled herself, only taking a moment, and then crammed the remaining half or so of the slice into her mouth. And, like many of her plans - insomuch as they could be called as such - she hadn’t really gotten past Step One in her aims. But since Step Two was usually something in the neighborhood of “just keep pounding your head against the wall until Step Three presents itself,” this proved to be less of a deterrent than it might be otherwise. 

And in this case, cheeks hurting and just wanting to be done with it all, Veronica chewed. And chewed. And chewed some more, working her teeth while trying not to think too deeply about the mess she’d gotten herself into, or at least more than she already had. Bit by bit, she swallowed more, the sweet and savory mix of pineapple and ham doing little for her enjoyment. When Veronica finally swallowed the last chunk of dough and cheese, she couldn’t help but let out an exhausted groan and fall back against the couch. The sigh that followed was interrupted by her breath hitching at how stuffed she felt and the pressure making it difficult to take any kind of a deep breath. 

“Wow,” Chandler said, striking that perfect chord between amused and bored that so often cut through entire swathes of insecure students. Somehow, it didn’t feel quite as cutting to Veronica now, vulnerable as she was. “You really  _ are _ a fat girl at heart, aren’t you?”

“Heather, you don’t have to be mean,” McNamara chided her, Veronica just barely catching Chandler’s eyeroll in response. She scooted a little closer to Veronica, a warm hand pressing to her throbbing stomach and gentle enough for Veronica’s initial wince to fade. “That didn’t hurt too much, did it?”

“Mmmf.” Veronica’s head was laying back on the couch while she tried to take shallow breaths. “I’m gonna explode,” she groaned.

“You’ll be fine,” Heather Duke chided her, though in a more reassuring tone than Veronica had expected - especially with how quiet she had been throughout Veronica’s stuffing. “Though maybe we should have some water on hand for her later.”

“Nooo,” Veronica whined, wincing at the mere thought of ingesting anything else. 

“It’s for when you wake up after all those carbs and feel like you’re dying of thirst, you dumbass,” Duke grumbled back at her, almost assuredly rolling her eyes - that is, if Veronica could tilt her head up to look towards her. She was stretching back as best she could, as if that would free some more space in her overpacked stomach and give her some relief - all with no luck. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you’ve got potential,” Chandler snickered, reaching over McNamara’s lap to poke Veronica in her stomach, prompting another pained whine. 

“Heather!” McNamara scolded, her tone sharp enough that it brought Veronica a bit of her stupor to see Chandler actually look a bit chastened. “We should get you to lie down, that will help,” McNamara said, her attention returning to Veronica and her voice soothing and warm again. Veronica just nodded back at her, finding it hard to focus on much of anything going on besides the gorging she’d just been through. She did see McNamara turn away from her and make some kind gesture, but didn’t realize who it was directed to until-

“Ugh, seriously,” Chandler groaned with a heavy sigh following. Veronica glanced over in time to see another gesture before Chandler started to shift herself off the couch. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Heather,” McNamara hummed back at her sweetly, with a scoff answering her as Chandler disappeared behind the couch. “Your turn, Veronica.”   
  
“Huh?” The sudden loss of warmth and comforting pressure from her side brought her attention to McNamara again, and Veronica saw that she had slid all the way to the other end of the couch. Thinking back to her weekend experience and the moments of time getting away from her, Veronica spent another moment wondering if she could get drunk off of pizza before Heather patted the couch next to her. Veronica looked from the couch and back up to Heather, clearly looking as confused as she felt before it clicked a moment later. “Oh.”

McNamara chuckled, helping Veronica ease herself to lying down on the couch without jostling her painfully full stomach too much. She wasn’t expecting to be guided down so that her head was resting on Heather’s lap, but she didn’t take long to just relax against her thigh and stomach a weak hum. 

“Feel better?” Veronica startled awake at the soft hum against the back of her head from Heather’s words. She wasn’t sure if she’d been asleep for a few seconds or an hour. She hadn’t been paying enough to the movie to tell what was going on, besides that Tracy Turnblad was dancing and it was somehow taboo because she was… plump and also racism? Honestly, it was kind of unclear, but that felt more of an issue because she wasn’t really doing well on focusing on things besides the pizza, her aching stomach, and now her very comfortable and surprisingly warm pillow. 

Veronica paused and blinked a few times at the shade of yellow stretching in front of her eyes, like a pair of legs… then looked up at Heather, realizing that said pillow was, still, Heather McNamara. Specifically, her thigh and her flat stomach, a fact that made Veronica have to swallow a lump in her throat. “Y-yeah,” she replied thickly. “Sorry, m’sleepy,” she added, her voice sounding as tired and blurry as she felt. 

“Pillowcase,” Chandler sighed from somewhere from a distance beyond Veronica’s current ability to comprehend. McNamara’s warm laugh was more than enough to dull any edge to Chandler‘s comment; Veronica wasn’t sure if there was one, so far gone was she at this point, but she definitely didn’t care with Heather being so comfortable in multiple ways. 

McNamara brushed some hair out of Veronica’s eyes, giving her a look that made Veronica’s chest heat up. “Get some rest, Veronica. We’ll wake you a bit later.” 

Veronica meant to reply, she really did; her stomach was still gurgling in protest and she had more questions about- well, everything, but she could only manage a weak hum in reply as she shifted in a bit closer to Heather’s stomach. Before she could make out another line of dialogue from the movie, she had drifted off back to sleep. 


End file.
